Shadows of Yesterday
by OrcaPotter
Summary: Timothy's Story: Novel 2. Timothy must begin his reluctant destiny, which brings him to his mother's homeland, unlikely places, and more pieces to a puzzle he must solve if the wizarding world hopes to survive...again. Sequel to Discover The Dawn.
1. Unwanted Destiny

A/N: Don't worry, I promise, this A/N will be short. I'll refrain from rambling, at least until the bottom A/N. ::grins:: Well, here it is! Control your excitement, yes, this is the first chapter of Timothy's second series entitled "Shadows of Yesterday"! Like I've been saying on my website, I simply refused to let school ruin this. Of course, in this chapter, we hook back up with Timothy during the summer right after his 1st year and just spend some time. If you like Kalina, you'll get to know her a lot better in this series, especially in this chapter. Also, a touch of Ron and Hermione's son, Joseph. SO, I'll stop here and let you read. Sorry, this has not been beta read because I'm impatient and want to post this. So, if there are any mistakes, ignore them. PLEASE review this, I'll need feedback on this new story.  
DISCLAIMER: Hello world, I am not J.K. ... as much as I'd like to be! Muhahahah!  
  
  
  
Chapter One: Unwanted Destiny   
  
  
"You sure she won't find us?"  
  
"Sure I'm sure."  
  
"She'll tell on us."  
  
"Let her."  
  
"What if she does find us?"  
  
"Then we'll run."  
  
"Run where?"  
  
"Anywhere but here."  
  
"She'll catch me, you guys are bigger than me."  
  
"Stop whining, Joseph."  
  
Crouched under a bush, Timothy Potter, Darian Hall, and Joseph Weasley hid in the shadows. They silenced the moment they spotted her, becoming dead still.  
  
"Timothy! Timothy, c'mon, this isn't funny! I'll tell Uncle Ron!"  
"You should have brought out your invisibility cloak, Timothy." Darian hissed in his ear.  
  
Timothy frowned. "That would have been helpful."  
  
"Tell me why we're doing this again?" Six-year old Joseph pestered, tugging on Timothy's shirtsleeve.  
  
"To be annoying." Both Timothy and Darian whispered in union.  
  
"TIMOTHY!" His sister, Kalina, stomped her foot angrily.  
  
The three boys broke out into giggles, making the bush move. Kalina's face broke into a mischievous grin, and tiptoed toward them. Timothy noticed and fell silent instantly.  
  
"Uh oh."  
  
"RUN!" Darian barked, and bolted out of the bush, Timothy in hot pursuit with Joseph struggling to keep up with the twelve-year-old boys.  
  
"Ahah! There you are!" Kalina made chase, but being six herself, she barely managed to catch up to Joseph. She caught him by the back of his shirt and fell with a thud.  
  
"We lost the midget!" Darian called over his shoulder to Timothy.  
  
"There's nothing we can do, keep running!" Timothy looked back at the now laughing six-year-olds, until suddenly he ran smack into something.  
  
"AH!" Timothy fell flat on his back. Darian had skidded to a halt before he could run into two very suspicious looking parents.  
  
"Timothy? What are you doing?" It was his mother, Renee Potter. She was wearing her auror's robes, which were dusty from obvious hard work that day. However, it in no way made her any less beautiful. Her long brown hair was braided down the middle and she towered over Timothy with her sensitive blue eyes… the same eyes he had.  
  
"Er… hi mum." Timothy rubbed his head, scrambling to his feet while blushing. He stood up and looked to the other parent, who was Hermione Weasley, his Godmother. "Hello Aunt Hermione."  
  
"Where's Uncle Ron?" She asked him with an amused smile.  
  
"He let us play outside when he started a game of chess with Jeff." Darian replied politely.  
  
The two adults exchanged stern looks.  
  
"You left them alone?" Timothy's mother sighed.  
  
Timothy and Darian shrugged.  
  
"It was funny 'till Jeff started breathing fire when Uncle Ron beat him for the tenth time." Timothy said.  
  
"Oh dear." Hermione sighed.  
  
His mother looked at him expectantly, then put her hands on her hips. "Well? Aren't you going to greet your mother? Or am I going to have to chase you too?"  
  
Timothy giggled and gave her a hug.  
  
"That's better. Now where's your sister?" His mother kissed him and tried to straighten his hair without result.  
  
Timothy pointed behind him.  
  
"With Joseph. We were playing hide-and-seek."  
  
"Yeah, for two hours in the same round." Darian muttered so only Timothy could hear. They both laughed silently.  
  
"Kalina!" Timothy's mother called after giving both boys suspicious looks, she started off toward the younger children and his Aunt Hermione waddled behind. She was heavily pregnant with twins. Timothy and Darian followed, still laughing quietly.  
  
After another greeting by the younger children, the group walked inside the Potter home to the sounds of angry grunts and triumphant laughter.  
  
"Checkmate." Ron Weasley's voice was smooth and cool.  
  
"No! No, no, no… I don't think so, fire head!" Jeff was enraged.  
  
Timothy's mother put out her arms to keep Timothy and the others back. His Godmother, however, stormed right into the living room where the two were playing.  
  
"Ronald Weasley, what are you doing?" She crossed her arms over her enlarged stomach.  
  
Timothy's very tall and redheaded Godfather looked up at her and smiled innocently.  
  
"Hello sweetheart, how was your day out?"  
  
Jeff had persisted to glare at the board in disbelief.  
  
"Didn't it occur to you that your son and your best friend's children were running around unsupervised?" Hermione steamed, her eyes narrowed at him dangerously.  
  
"Dad said we could go out." Joseph was tugging at her robes. She didn't look down but put her arm around him.  
  
"Jeff… you know better…" Timothy's mother started at the smoking yellow dragon who was very close to setting the chess board on fire.  
  
"It was an innocent game of chess… the little terrors stayed nearby." He shrugged, but avoided her gaze. Timothy knew how Jeff was afraid of her when she was mad.  
  
"Joseph, honey, go play with Kalina… dad and I have to have a little talk." Hermione gently pushed the small red head back toward Kalina, who took Joseph's hand.  
  
"Go play in your room, Timothy. I'll call you and the others when dinner is ready." His mother said, making an effort to keep an eye on Jeff, who had slicked off to a dark corner.  
  
Timothy hesitated as Kalina, Joseph, and Darian made a move toward the hall.  
  
"Where's dad?" He asked his mother.  
  
She looked back at him, her eyes tired and the bright blue dulled by stress.  
  
"He's gonna be late again, sweetheart, you know that."  
  
When Timothy's eyes fell and he nodded, his mother gave him a weary smile and she cradled his chin in her scarred hand.  
  
"Darian will have to go home before dinnertime, be sure to tell him that. We have to have a family talk later, when dad gets home."  
  
He looked at her questioningly, but she turned away and found Jeff, grabbing his tail and dragging him into the kitchen. His Godparents had already left for the sitting room toward the front of the house. Darian punched his arm.  
  
"C'mon."  
  
Timothy followed Darian down the hall, past Kalina's room where Joseph was being pestered into having tea with her stuffed dolls and bears. His look sent Timothy and Darian into a fit of giggles, and Joseph glowered at them as they went past. They found themselves in Timothy's room, the floor cluttered with stuff and the ceiling alive with oranges and purples as it's enchanted mural showed they dusk sky as it was outside. Darian picked up Timothy's coveted Dragonsfire 800 broom and studied the various Quidditch team posters on the walls. Timothy himself flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.  
  
"So what's up? I thought your mom didn't work." Darian asked casually, setting the broom against the bed and flopping down on his stomach next to him.  
  
Timothy swallowed as memories began to come back. Memories he was trying hard to forget.  
  
"She started going back after… well, after…"  
  
"Oh." Darian didn't need to be told the reason.  
  
At the end of that previous school year at Hogwarts, Timothy fell into a trap made by an evil wizard known as Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was an old school rival of his father's, and he joined the dark lord named Voldemort in his quest to destroy him. However, Malfoy's lust for power made him so ambitious as to rise up against Voldemort, he waited for Timothy's parents to destroy him, so that Malfoy could take his place and gain more power than he ever had. It worked, and while his parent's destiny was fulfilled, it did not rid the world of evil. Malfoy waited in the shadows just for Timothy's first year at Hogwarts, so that he could be lured into a trap. Timothy barely made it out… and what he discovered in the process bothered him deeply, and Darian's conversation brought back his fears that he had been trying all summer to forget.  
  
"Dad's been working overtime since we told him about Smith last winter. He hasn't been home on time for months. I'm lucky to see him at all, much less speak to him. He's been real tired." Timothy sighed, locking his jaw as he tried not to think about the reason.  
  
"Have you heard from John at all?" Thankfully, Darian changed the subject.  
  
"No." Timothy raised his eyebrows. "Not since school let out."  
  
"I sent him an owl the other day… he hasn't replied yet."  
  
"Well, you know how his family is." Timothy rolled over on his side to face Darian.  
  
"Yeah, but… that's no reason not to keep in touch."  
  
Timothy shrugged. Darian glanced at his watch and sighed.  
  
"I better go. Dad's making pork chops and I have to make sure he doesn't burn them."  
  
"Doesn't your mum get the summer off from Hogwarts too?" Timothy asked as he got up and led Darian out of his room.  
  
"Yeah, but she's a nurse, not a cook. That's dad's job… although he hasn't perfected the profession yet." Darian grinned, following Timothy into the living room.  
  
Timothy handed him some Floo Powder and Darian tossed it into the fireplace, making the flames shoot up and turn a green color.  
  
"Well, see ya, Timothy. Send me an owl, maybe you can come over my place sometime." Darian gave him a good-hearted shove as he stepped into the green fire.  
  
"Sure, bye Darian." Timothy watched as Darian shouted "Hall residence!" and disappeared with a whirl of flames. The fire soon died down and lost it's green color, and Timothy shoved his hands into his pockets as he wandered into the kitchen. He could hear the tense conversation between his Godparents from the front of the house and the moans of Joseph from Kalina's room as she was apparently getting him to play tea party. Only his mother was silent as he walked into the kitchen.  
  
"Darian went home, mum." Timothy said quietly.  
  
She was sitting at the kitchen table, her head leaning into her propped up arm. The stove was hissing with a pot of boiling water over it and various vegetables were being chopped on the counter magically by her wand in her other hand. Timothy stood in the archway and studied her with concern.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
His mother looked up at him, her bangs all messy from her hand running through them. She looked flushed and her eyes were glossy.  
  
"Oh, honey… nothing, just thinking about work, that's all."  
  
"What happened?" He came over to her and nuzzled his head into her shoulder. She smiled at him and kissed his forehead.  
  
"Just the usual. Being led on a wild goose chase. Nothing you should worry about though."  
  
"How come dad doesn't come home until long after you do?" He asked her timidly.  
  
She sighed and didn't answer. Timothy had asked the same question numerous times since he got home from Hogwarts, but it was hard not having his father around and he kept asking. So when she didn't reply, he didn't persist for the answer.  
  
"I miss him." He said.  
  
His mother stared blankly at nothing.  
  
"So do I."  
  
She hugged him close and he felt content in her warm embrace. For several moments she rocked him slightly, both of them silent. However, the silence was broken by a heated conversation becoming louder in the hall.  
  
"You'll have three children! No more chess with dragons!"  
  
"But Herm! Just because we have kids doesn't mean I can't play a simple board game!"  
  
"I didn't say you couldn't play, just not with dragons."  
  
"What's so wrong with playing with a dragon?!"  
  
"He distracts you from your responsibilities!"  
  
"The kids were fine!"  
  
"They were outside, Ron, outside! Outside at this time, with… with… well, you know!"  
  
Timothy's Godparents, Ron and Hermione Weasley found themselves still arguing in front of himself and his mother in the kitchen. They stared at the bickering couple until the two finally noticed where they were.  
  
"Oh Renee! Oh, sorry." Ron looked guilty.  
  
"Renee? What's wrong?" Hermione came over to her and put her hands on her shoulders.  
  
Timothy's mother smiled at her and shook her head.  
  
"Nothing, Hermione, don't worry."  
  
Hermione, however, was not convinced.  
  
"You know, it's just like Harry to be stubborn and stay working while you go home with the kids alone."  
  
Ron shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.  
  
"Harry's always been like that when there was something to be done."  
  
Hermione glared at him.  
  
"But he shouldn't leave his family alone, no matter what."  
  
"He's only working late to help keep us all safe… I'm proud of him for how he's handling this. These are hard times, and it calls for sacrifices. As long as our children are safe, we can bear to be apart a while." Timothy's mother said proudly, but her voice was tired. His Godparents exchanged knowing looks and then finally nodded.  
  
"Well, Renee… do you need any more help? We can stay if you need us." Ron asked her.  
  
She smiled at them and shook her head.  
  
"No, you two need to get home. Hermione, you look about ready to burst!"  
  
Hermione patted her stomach and smiled.  
  
"Yeah, I feel like I'm carrying a whole Quidditch team in here."  
  
Timothy followed the adults as they left the kitchen and went to gather the kids in Kalina's room. Joseph was only too grateful to hear the news that they were leaving, but Kalina was crestfallen.  
  
"We were just about to play dress up!" Kalina protested.  
  
Joseph looked horrified and looked up at his father desperately. Timothy's Godfather tried hard to hide a smile and instead looked sympathetically down at his son, taking his hand and running with him out of the room. Timothy laughed and Kalina looked close to tears. Their mother picked her up and consoled her, Hermione waddling over to give her a kiss.  
  
"I hope for our sake, Kalina, that I'll have some girls for you to play with." She said to her, smoothing her long dark brown hair.  
  
Kalina perked up a bit at the thought.  
  
"I can only imagine Ron having to play tea party with daughters!" Her mother laughed, cuddling Kalina.  
  
"I'll take pictures." Hermione grinned, looking down at Timothy and smiling. Timothy smiled back and they escorted the Weasleys to the living room and the fireplace, where his Ron and Joseph were waiting with the Floo Powder already tossed into the fire. Good-byes and thanks were exchanged before they left, and Timothy stood with his mother and sister as they disappeared.  
  
Stew was served later, and Timothy ate silently, watching his mother. Kalina was innocently ignorant of the situation those days, but with glances at her brother, Timothy knew that she had a feeling something was wrong as well. She was really intelligent for her age, and sometimes Timothy forgot how old she was.  
  
"Mum, it's not safe outside anymore, is it?" Kalina asked their mother seriously.  
  
She looked up at her with mild wonder and a small, solemn smile.  
  
"No, it's not, sweetheart."  
  
"You and daddy are trying to make it better, right?"  
  
Their mother's smile became brighter.  
  
"We're trying, yes."  
  
Timothy was reminded of what it was he was supposed to do at his mother's words. He was the one that was supposed to be looking for an object that would help him to defeat Draco Malfoy. A "legendary" family crest from the age of Hogwarts's original founders held the power to destroy him. The Potter family crest, and only he could find it and use it. Timothy couldn't even tell his family, for no one would know or believe him. He had to find it on his own. It was ironic that his parents were stressing their lives for something they can't do anything about, not this time.  
  
"Right, Timothy?"  
  
Timothy had been staring blankly across the kitchen; Kalina was speaking to him.  
  
"Wha?" he blurted stupidly.  
  
"I said, don't you think we should help mum and daddy around the house so that they wouldn't have to work so much?" Kalina rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"Oh. Right. Yeah, sure."  
  
"Well," their mother sighed, "there's something we need to talk about. Once your father gets home, though."  
  
"What is it?" Kalina asked excitedly.  
  
"Nothing's wrong, is there?" Timothy asked.  
  
"No, no. Nothing's wrong. It's something you'll enjoy, I think… but your father has to have his say." his mother said, getting up and putting her bowl in the sink.  
  
"Oh please, mum! Tell us!" Kalina wiggled in her seat.  
  
"No. Give me your bowl and get ready for your bath, when daddy gets home we'll talk."  
  
"Can I take Jeff in with me?" she asked her, handing up her bowl and spoon.  
  
"NO!" Yelled a voice from outside and Timothy in union. Jeff must have been outside for punishment for playing chess while he should had been watching them. Timothy grinned at the little yellow dragon who was trying desperately to jump and peek through the back door window. Fortunately for Jeff, Timothy's mother shook her head.  
  
"As much as he may need it now, Jeff cannot take a bath with you."  
  
"Can Timothy?" Kalina grinned mischievously at him. Timothy glared back, horrified.  
  
"Ahck, no!" he recoiled in his seat while Kalina giggled.  
  
Their mother laughed at them both.  
  
"It's up to your brother, 'cause he needs one too."  
  
Kalina skipped to Timothy's side and gave him her puppy-eye look, her hands behind her back and her feet shuffling innocently. He wasn't convinced, and he leaned toward her, his face dead set.  
  
"Not for all the galleons on earth."  
  
Her face fell and her lips quivered. Timothy panicked at her threatening outburst.  
  
"I'll tell you a story afterwards, though." He said quickly.  
  
Kalina studied him.  
  
"Mum always tells me a story before bed." she challenged him.  
  
"I'll tell you one about Hogwarts, then." Timothy countered.  
  
"Daddy always tells me about Hogwarts." Kalina smiled, amused at Timothy's annoyed look.  
  
"Then what do you want? And don't say you want me to take a bath with you because I'm too big for that now." He crossed his arms.  
  
She looked at him a minute, her face becoming serious.  
  
"Stay in the bathroom with me? I don't want to be alone."  
  
Timothy was about to protest, looking up at his mother for support, but she had gotten deeply involved with washing dishes and the sound of the running water drowned out their conversation from her hearing. He looked back at his little sister, who had lost the hint of play and gave him a sense of desperation. Finally he sighed and nodded.  
  
"Fine, but put plenty of bubble bath in the water. I don't need to see you naked."  
  
Kalina beamed at him, and skidded out of the kitchen. Timothy helped his mother clean up, then left to join Kalina in the bathroom. He sat on the floor, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands as Kalina splashed in the tub next to him. Much to his dismay, Timothy's thoughts went back to the family crest he was supposed to find. Where was it? How was he supposed to get it? And if he did, how on Earth was he supposed to use it against Malfoy? Even if he got as far as figuring all that out, how would he manage to even use it against Malfoy? Knowing his parents were keeping an extra watchful eye on him and his sister, as well as everyone else he knew.  
  
Timothy continued to dwell on his thoughts long after Kalina had finished and was being tucked into bed by his mother. He stayed in his room, holding Hoot, his old stuffed owl, and his Dragonsfire 800 on his bed. His father had yet to come home, and once Kalina was asleep, his mother went to draw in the living room… like she always did when she was troubled. Timothy figured it was best to leave her alone, and he did so, staying in his room and trying to keep his mind off of his "quest" by playing on his Magicomp, a magical computer. Even when his mother came in and said it was time for bed, Timothy was troubled with his thoughts. Usually his mother could tell, but she was so caught up with her own worries and stress that he managed to conceal it. Which was for the best, in his opinion. He didn't want her to worry more about him.  
  
"Where's Jeff?" He asked her as she drew the covers around him. Jeff would usually sleep at the foot of his bed.  
  
She cocked her head at him and her look told all.  
  
"He's in time-out. I'll send him in when I think he's had enough."  
  
Even long after they had said prayers and exchanged goodnights, Timothy was wide-awake. The glowing numbers of his clock revealed that it wasn't until midnight that he finally heard sounds of his father coming home. Heavy footsteps in the hallway outside told Timothy that his father would be coming in to check on him. Quickly turning on his side and shutting his eyes, Timothy slowed his breathing just in time as his bedroom door opened. He could hear his father's breathing, and felt his hand run gently through his hair.  
  
"Love you, Timothy." His father barely whispered, then after a moment, Timothy's bedroom door closed and his father was gone.  
  
He could hear his parents talking quietly in the living room, and Timothy wondered if they were talking about whatever it was his mother had said they were going to discuss as a family. Curious and still wide-awake, Timothy got out of bed and tiptoed to his door. Opening the door slightly as quietly as he could, he stuck his head out and could see Kalina had already done the same. She held her finger to her mouth and motioned her head toward the living room. Timothy nodded and strained to listen.  
  
"…worse everyday."  
  
"I know."  
  
"The only thing that keeps me going is my family. Our son will never be touched by evil again, I won't allow it. And heaven forbid they even think about touching you or our daughter."  
  
"I fight the dark arts with you… I do it for us too. That's really the main reason. But Harry, you need to…"  
  
"No, Renee, I want you safe. I want our children safe. The more you are home with them the better."  
  
"We work better together, you know that."  
  
Silence fell for a moment, and Timothy inched out of the door a little more.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"We need some time, Harry, or else we'll be unfit to protect our family."  
  
"We don't have time to let our guard down."  
  
"The entire Circle is on alert and working around the clock. You and I have fronted them all for too long without a break. We're no use to anyone worn out and exhausted."  
  
"But…"  
  
"No buts, Harry. I've talked with my parents and we're long overdue for a visit. It would be good for all of us to spend a week or so in Florida at my parents' house."  
  
Kalina let out an excited gasp. Timothy waved at her to be quiet.  
  
"I don't know, honey. Go to Florida? Now? No…"  
  
"You need to spend time with your kids. We all need a vacation and get our minds off of dark magic."  
  
"But who will…?"  
  
"Sirius. I've already talked to him and Lupin too. They'll take over for us until we get back. And yes, I told Eian too."  
  
There was a long pause before Timothy could hear his father let out an amused sigh.  
  
"Well, you already had this all figured out, why bother even telling me?"  
  
"Because if I hadn't my father would find himself coming over and dragging you back to the States without giving you a clue. I figured I should handle it, but he was plan B. Now I can write him and tell him that isn't necessary."  
  
Kalina stifled giggles and Timothy threw her a dangerous look, but she continued anyway. He motioned his hand to tell her to go back to bed, and while still giggling silently, Kalina obliged. Timothy himself stayed in his doorway, still listening.  
  
"Renee?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Are we wasting our time?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
His father fell silent a moment and Timothy heard him get up and pace the living room.  
  
"Oh…" his mother whispered after a while. "No, we're not, Harry."  
  
"We've both have had that feeling ever since Timothy was born."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I can't stand to think about what the future holds for him, if our feelings are correct."  
  
"Neither can I."  
  
Before he realized what it he was doing, Timothy tiptoed closer to the living room to hear clearly.  
  
"I can't let him go through what I did… what we did." His father sighed, sitting down next to his mother.  
  
"He won't, Timothy has a very different life from yours. As long as we're with him, Timothy can do anything. He's our son, Harry, and that makes him a very powerful wizard."  
  
"I don't want him to have this on his shoulders… being the one to defeat Malfoy. I'm worried." His father whispered.  
  
"You wouldn't be his father if you weren't worried, and I am just as worried as you are. But we don't have to worry about this now… Timothy is not going to duel with that evil scum of the earth anytime soon. We just keep up our own job and hope that when the time comes, Timothy will be ready."  
  
They fell silent once more, then they began to get up and blow out candles. Timothy raced back to his bedroom as quietly as he could and jumped into bed.  
  
So, they know that I am the only one who can defeat Malfoy. Timothy thought as he drew his bedcovers up closer to him. But I'm also the only one who knows what I need to do it; they don't know about the crest. I truly am alone on this one.  
  
As Timothy heard his parents' bedroom door close from down the hall, he looked at the moving photo of his family on his bedside table. He was standing with his parents in their backyard when he was 9 and Kalina was 3. They were all smiling and laughing, not a care in the world… not a single worry. Amazing how quickly your life can change… knowing things will perhaps never be the same. Timothy blinked away a single tear at the memory captured in the photo, and as the house fell into the silence of sleep… so did Timothy.  
  
  
  
A/N: Well, how did I do? I'm rather surprised at it, since school is still on a mission to kill me. Do you believe I have to memorize the entire preamble to the U.S. Constitution for Amer. Govt.?! Don't get me started, or this will look a lot like the a/n to "A Day Without Rain". I was really stressed beyond belief when writing that folks, sorry... I kinda got the gist when not many of you reviewed it. BUT PLEASE... review this one! So... Timothy and the fam are going to the Sunshine State for a little R&R, but... can he escape knowing that he really should be looking for that darn crest? What happens may surprise you! Yes, I know what happens! Shocking, 'aint it?  
  
You can keep up to date with me at my website, as you know:  
http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com  
I still have the HTML code for it's banner, if you want it for your own site. Let me know if you'd like it.  
  
Are you ready for some... comercials?! Yes, I'll be keeping an eye on the superbowl, but not on the game... on the comericals! As you may know, the preview trailer for the HP movie will be shown sometime during the game! Just thought I'd remind you. Heehee... sorry if you don't live in the states and can't see it... you're welcome to come over and join us. If I had a video camera and a link thingie to my comp, I'd tape it for you.  
  
Well, enough of that, I'm off to study for 3 tests and that freak'n preamble... all while writing the second chapter. I'll try to get it up before Saturday... that's my 18th birthday! Yeah. I'm going to Medieval Times for dinner... yet more inspiration for fics. Know what you can do? REVIEW PLEASE.... review and review and review and review ::Energizer bunny comes through screen:: and review and review and review and review some more!!!!! ::waves innocently:: Bye wonderful peeps!  
  
~OrcaPotter 


	2. The Woods

A/N: I just managed to get this in on time... yes! Welcome to chapter two, and I believe that you are going to enjoy this series as this chapter (I hope) proves. As of now, I am legally able to vote, gamble, and buy stuff from TV telecommercials! Thanks to all of you who wished me a happy b-day ::shy grin:: How about his new chaptering system, 'eh? Do you like it? It's OK... a neat feature. So now, READ and REVIEW like the nice people you are. Please review this chapter... I want to know if I'm showing signs of dragging, or if this is a perfect addition to a story that I hope will outdue the last one!  
DISCLAIMER: We the readers of Harry Potter fanfiction establish the fact that I am not J.K. but Orca who DID come up with Timothy and anything that J.K. didn't.  
  
  
  
Chapter Two: The Woods  
  
The following morning, Timothy woke up to find both of his parents and Kalina already packing for the trip. His mother looked up from the bag she was stuffing with various hygiene products and opened her mouth to speak before Timothy held up a single hand.  
  
"I'll get my stuff." He yawned.  
  
Her eyes were held in momentary surprise until she heard Kalina snicker behind her back. After which she just shook her head and looked back at Kalina with a mock frown.  
  
When they were all packed and ready to go, Timothy and his family gathered in front of the fire.  
  
"Everything locked up?" His mother asked.  
  
"Yep." Answered his father.  
  
"Got everything?"  
  
"Uh-huh." Timothy yawned.  
  
"Renee, did you clear everything with customs over there?" his father asked, throwing a shoulder bag over his shoulder.  
  
"Of course," She said, throwing an extra helping of Floo Powder into the fireplace. "They wouldn't have linked our fireplace without the notice."  
  
"Ok then, let's go." Timothy's father moved to step inside before Timothy's mother stopped him.  
  
"Wait, did you put on sunscreen? Did all three of you? The last time we went you all came back as red as lobsters."  
  
"Yes." Came three voices in union.  
  
"Ok, let's go."  
  
"HOLD IT!"  
  
With a unanimous sigh, Timothy and his family turned to face Jeff, who looked extremely ruffled.  
  
"I can't believe how all of you abandon me at the blink of an eye! I'll be all alone here!" Smoke jetted from his nose.  
  
Timothy's mother put her hands on her hips, looking down at Jeff in exasperation.  
  
"Jeff, the last time we took you to Florida you ate a seagull and got sick all over my mother's white carpet."  
  
"Let's not forget the fact that you can't swim." His father added.  
  
"Hey, that seagull ate something spicy before I ate him! It wasn't my fault… plus, who in their right mind would have white carpeting? Jeff argued.  
  
To appease his yellow friend, Timothy shifted the bag he was holding containing parchment and quills to write home with and scratched Jeff behind the ears.  
  
"Not fair…" Jeff sighed contently, falling to the floor in a heap while his tail twitched in pleasure.  
  
"I'll bring you back a coconut." Timothy laughed, following his mother and sister who had already gone through the fireplace. His father winked at him as he stepped into the green flames.  
  
"Springs residence!" He said clearly, and the world blurred before him, whisking him away from his country and into a different one. If it weren't for his mother waiting with her arms out to catch him, Timothy would have fell flat on his face. It took longer than normal because of the distance to get through the network and he was dizzy.  
  
"Oh, there he is!" Squealed an old and pleasant voice.  
  
When Timothy's head stopped spinning, held safely in his mother's arms, he noticed where he was. Kalina was already tight in the grasp of his grandmother, showered with kisses and constant coos. Now she was eyeing him, but his grandfather made it to him first.  
  
"This can't be my grandson! This guy here is too big." His grandfather was very strong and large, making no effort to pry Timothy from his mother and persist to ruffle his hair. However, it was far from the gentle tossing his father and uncles did. His grandfather's strength nearly knocked Timothy to his knees, all while trying desperately to smile, although with gritted teeth.  
  
"Hello… Granddad." Timothy managed to say.  
  
"Dad, careful… you'll make him bald." His mother, to his relief, pulled him away. His father finally arrived, looking disheveled but pleased to be away.  
  
"Hello everyone." He called out. Timothy scuttled to stand next to him so that his grandmother wouldn't catch him, but it was futile. His grandmother grabbed his arm while his father giggled silently. Timothy glowered at him while his cheeks were being pinched.  
  
"Oh look how big you've gotten! Renee, you've got to come more often! I can't even recognize my little boy! Well, he's not so little anymore now is he? Isn't that right? My how handsome you are, just like your father. But your mother's eyes you still have, yes! Oh, I could just eat you up!"  
  
Timothy's cheeks flamed while everyone began to giggle, Kalina who was perched atop their grandfather's shoulders, giggled the loudest.  
  
"Mom… umm, yeah, just…there ya go." His mother pried him from his grandmother's fingers and held him close. Timothy sighed with relief, hiding his face in her robes until his face returned to its normal color.  
  
  
Once the family shock wore off, Timothy found his grandparent's to be very intelligent and efficient. The last time Timothy and his family had visited was when Kalina was a baby; he was 8 years old. Now that he was older, he found his grandparents to be very interesting as they told stories about the various places on earth that they had been to. After dinner, they all sat in the living room next to an old grandfather clock much like the one his parents had at home, and listened to stories about South America and Africa.  
  
"Do not play cards with a Voodoo witchdoctor," his grandfather explained. "I won't even begin on the types of things we betted on."  
  
"The bush people in Africa use a more primitive type of magic. They don't use specially made wands, like we do. Instead, they find your average large stick or branch and use the local ley-lines to channel the magic through it." His grandmother told over a mug of coffee.  
  
"What are ley-lines?" Timothy asked.  
  
"Ley-lines are natural rivers of magical energy that flow unseen all over the earth like an intricate spider web. Wizards and witches of long ago used them to perform powerful magic. That was before magic became one with our blood, for now we don't necessarily need ley-lines to do magic; it's all in the genes now." His grandmother smiled at him.  
  
"Are there ley-lines back home?" he asked out loud to no one in particular.  
  
"Back home especially," his father said. "England is a hotspot for magic."  
  
"How do you know, daddy?" Kalina asked sleepily from their mother's lap.  
  
"You'll learn it at Hogwarts, honey." He smiled at her. Kalina looked over at Timothy, her eyes narrowed with half-suspicion, half-fatigue.  
  
"How come you didn't know that?" She asked him.  
  
Timothy sat up straight in defense.  
  
"I've only been there a year, Kalina."  
  
"Ok, enough of that. Time for bed!" Their grandmother got up with some effort and nudged their mother to agree.  
  
"C'mon you two." She forced Kalina out of her lap and took her hand, leading her into the hallway toward the bedrooms.  
  
"You get to stay in the spare bedroom. Your parents will be next door in your mom's old room." Timothy's grandmother took him gently by the shoulders and led him into the spare room.   
  
While everyone was preparing for bed, Kalina already nodding off in her nightgown on a small cot on the floor, Timothy looked around the old room.  
  
"This was my Uncle Timothy's room, wasn't it?" He asked his grandmother, who had kissed Kalina goodnight. She considered him a moment and then nodded.  
  
"Yes it was… and that was his bed too." She pointed to him, and sighed. "I've been waiting for you to ask that. The last few times you were here you slept with your parents in your mom's old room."  
  
"I don't remember ever asking." Timothy yawned, wondering how that could be, even though he had only been to his grandparents' home a few times in his life.  
  
"Well, I'm sure he'd be happy to know that his nephew is using it. This room has been so lonely." His grandmother shrugged, smiled, and kissed him goodnight. As she left the room, his parents came in for their turn, and they did their evening routine. It wasn't long before the candles were blown out and the sounds of his sister's quiet breathing and the crickets singing outside that Timothy fell asleep.  
  
  
The sun hit the window with full force as the Florida dawn rose early that summer morning. Timothy stirred and turned over, hearing his sister do the same. However, the heat got to his back and Timothy couldn't fall asleep again. Groaning quietly, he forced himself to sit up and look around, putting on his glasses. Kalina was still fast asleep under a dark sheet, one of her dolls hanging on the side of the cot. The room itself was bare from lack of use, yet he could still make out the darker spots on the walls where posters were hung long ago. His uncle must have had many favorite Quidditch teams too.  
  
Continuing to let sleep leave him, Timothy thought about what his uncle must have been like. His mother often talked about him, but not in detail; they were really close and his death was especially hard on her. That was what earned him his name; his mother was pregnant with him when Timothy was killed, and in his honor his parents named him after his murdered uncle. From what he was told, his uncle was smart, funny, and a good Quidditch player.  
  
Timothy blinked the sleep out of his eyes, stretching out his arms. He continued to stretch, knocking his hand into the headboard of the bed. Grabbing his hand quickly and stifling a yelp so as not to wake anyone, Timothy heard something fall with a soft thud from behind the headboard. Afraid that he had knocked something down, he peered behind the headboard and squinted in the dark and dust. He could just make out a shape squeezed between the headboard and the wall.  
  
Slowly and quietly, Timothy positioned himself to retrieve the object. After trying to reach it from atop the headboard without result, he moved silently to floor and tried to get it from there. Five minutes later, Timothy found himself nearly under the bed, grabbing a leather bound… book.  
  
"It's just a silly book." Timothy muttered with exasperation over his efforts. He was about to toss it away when Kalina let out a snort and turned over, giving Timothy second thoughts on throwing it. Instead, looking quite smug, he moved to go back into bed when the old book in his hand caught the light from the window. Shiny and peeling gold letters showed dully with age, but it still caught his eye. Peering closer, Timothy read the words:  
  
Memories of old,  
Help remember times that were  
From these stories never told,  
Stay within this book forever  
  
Carefully, he opened the worn leather cover and saw the first page. It was a diary. Curious, he read the first few lines.  
  
Hello,  
My name is Timothy Springs and I am twelve years old. I found this old diary in an old Muggle bookshop that I stumbled into yesterday. Don't tell mom and dad, but I looked around and pretended to be a Muggle! Anyway, this diary was old and the shop owner said I could have it… I didn't have to pay! I've never had a diary before, so let's see how this goes…  
  
Timothy let out a silent gasp. This was his Uncle Timothy's old diary from when he was a boy! He must of kept it behind his headboard and forgot it when he moved out. His curiosity burning, Timothy read the first few pages. A few moments later, however, he felt someone breathing on his neck. Startled, Timothy jumped and quickly shut the diary as he turned around and faced Kalina, her long dark brown hair all messy from the night.  
  
"What'cha doing?" She asked innocently. "What's that?"  
  
"Nothing." He said quickly, shoving the diary under his pillow. Kalina stared at him with suspicion for a moment, then shrugged and left the room. Timothy waited until she was gone and then looked down at his pillow that covered the diary. He was about to pull it out again when there was a knock on the door.  
  
"'Morning." His father yawned in the doorway.  
  
"Oh, hey! Yeah, good morning!" Timothy blurted out, patting the pillow to make sure it covered the diary all the way. He jumped off the bed and gave his father a quick hug. "Mum up yet?"  
  
His father scratched his head and nodded sleepily.  
  
"We got the Kalina wake up call."  
  
Timothy stifled a giggle as he left the hallway and came upon the breakfast table, where it was already set with cereal and toast. His mother was pouring coffee alongside his grandmother; they both smiled as he sat down next to Kalina.  
  
"What are we going to do today?" Kalina asked with her mouth full of toast.  
  
"Just hang out here and rest. Tomorrow we'll go out and do something." Their mother replied, smiling at their father as he finally came in and sat down next to Timothy. His head hit the table with a thud, making both Timothy and Kalina laugh.  
  
"Perhaps your father will need two days." Their grandmother laughed, putting cream on the table and ruffling their father's hair. He grunted in agreement.  
  
  
As much as Timothy wanted to stay in his uncle's old room and read the diary, it would have been too suspicious if he had stayed in there all day. As his mother and sister flipped through old photo albums while his father napped, Timothy decided to go outside and find something interesting to do.  
  
"Pretty hot, huh?" His grandfather greeted him in the front yard, holding a large bag.  
  
Timothy nodded.  
  
"What are you doing?" He asked curiously.  
  
"Putting anti-gnome hexed sticks in the ground. Those suckers get bigger every year and I've heard that this stuff gets rid of them." His grandfather bent down and stuck a green spike in the grass. With a flick of his wand, it disappeared under the blades. "There. That should do it."  
  
Timothy stood awkwardly in the sun a moment, squinting in the light as he watched his grandfather brush off his hands and pocket his wand. After a while, he looked around past the yard, seeing a worn path leading from the house.  
  
"If you're gonna go out, might as well check out what you can find along the travel path there. Your mom took that way to school when she was your age, ya know." His grandfather said suddenly, after seeing Timothy staring at the path.  
  
"Ok. Can you tell mum and dad where I've gone?" He asked him, starting off toward the path.  
  
"Don't be gone too long, and stay away from the Muggle houses."  
  
Timothy nodded and waved, then set out along the dirt path. It was covered with pine needles and lined with palmetto bushes and towering pine trees. Not long after his grandparents' house went out of sight, Timothy came upon a fork in the path. The path that branched to the left was clear of trees and looked frequently traveled, while the branch to the right became more cluttered with plant life and barely showed evidence of a path at all from lack of use. He was about to take the path to the left when something inside of him made him turn to the right. The woods would be a little more interesting.  
  
The path narrowed and disappeared soon after Timothy entered the woods. However, he could just make out through the bushes where it was easier to walk through; an old trail must have been there before. Pushing large fans of leaves and branches out of the way, Timothy walked the ancient trail, happy to be out of the hot sun. The sounds of the woodland creatures were the only other sounds besides the crunching of the flora under his feet. Timothy was content for a while, until the calm serenity of the woods allowed his mind to wander.  
  
"If the crest is anywhere, it's definitely not here." He muttered aloud to himself suddenly. His worries returned, but Timothy tried hard to push them back, trying to let the woods envelop him and nothing else. The silence only made it worse, though, for he couldn't think of anything else but the family crest that he was supposed to find.  
  
"Why me?! Why now? If my future self knows about it, why doesn't he find it?" He kicked at a pinecone, making it bounce off of a tree trunk and land in a thicket of bushes. "What good can I do against an evil wizard? I'm not my dad… or my mum."  
  
There was a sudden movement and rustle of leaves behind him, and Timothy turned around to find nothing but a large palmetto bush settling back down. After staring at it suspiciously for a moment, he shrugged and continued shuffling along down the long-gone trail.  
  
Continuing to mumble to himself, Timothy zoned out of the woods and into his mind. This is all so stupid! He thought bitterly. At least here I have a reason not to look  
  
SMACK!  
  
Timothy was brought abruptly out his mind as he fell flat on his back after walking straight into a large pine tree. The world spun in front of his eyes and he groaned as he fumbled to sit himself up. Rubbing his head and groaning… Timothy could have sworn he heard another noise beside himself. It sounded like somebody giggling; he held his breath.  
  
"Hello?" He called out, moving to get on all fours so he could push himself back onto his feet. Nothing but silence answered him. Yet, as he let out another groan and put his weight into his hands to push himself up, Timothy heard a crack underneath his hand.  
  
Lifting it up, something like a yellow stick weathered badly with time lay in two pieces among the dead undergrowth of the woods. He picked the pieces up and held them close to his dirty glasses.  
  
"Huh, looks like one of those Muggle pencils mum uses," Timothy mumbled. "Looks like this has been here a long time. No wonder it broke so easily."  
  
Wincing, Timothy got up on his feet, still holding the broken pencil. As he glanced about, rubbing his backside, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Before he could turn his head to see it clearly, whatever… or whoever… it was had gone.  
  
Still staring at the spot, Timothy heard thunder roll in the distance. He tried to peer through the canopy, and he noticed that it had gotten darker. With a last suspicious glance around him, Timothy brushed past a large hibiscus plant and found his way out of the woods via the invisible trail. He pocketed the broken pencil and picked up his pace, for the thunder had gotten louder and it was beginning to rain. As he jogged out back to the path, he glanced back at the vanishing woods. Whatever or whoever it was that he saw… he wanted to see again; he would be back when it was dry before he left for home.  
  
  
"There you are!" His mother shouted out to him as Timothy ran into the house, wet from the summer rain shower that had begun to pour.  
  
"Sorry." He mumbled as she took him by the shoulder and led him to the bathroom to dry off. She was obviously tense about something, for when she dried his hair she was especially rough.  
  
"Granddad did tell you I went out, didn't he?" Timothy asked with concern.  
  
She didn't answer right away and didn't look him in the face.  
  
"Yes, he did." She said finally. Timothy still sensed that something was bothering her.  
  
"Sorry if I was out too late. I lost track of time; got so caught up in the sights." He let out a shaky laugh, looking at her closely. She inspected his clothes, which were dirty from his fall and from trampling through the woods.  
  
"You were in the woods, weren't you?"  
  
Timothy bit his lip. The tone of her voice revealed that visiting the woods was not allowed. Then why did his grandfather let him go?  
  
"Y-yes."  
  
"Timothy, you know not to go out on your own…" His mother started.  
  
"But Granddad said I could go!" Timothy interrupted.  
  
"He thought you would stick to the path and go into the town! Who knows what could have happened in the woods? It's dangerous, Timothy, something could have happened," She crossed her arms and looked him straight in the eye. "You are not to go back there, do you hear me?"  
  
"But…"  
  
"Do. You. Understand?" Her question was more of a demand; her words were law. Timothy looked down at his feet and sighed.  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
She considered him a moment, and her stern expression softened slightly.  
  
"Alright then, go help your sister set the table. Dinner's soon."  
  
Timothy didn't look up as he walked out of the bathroom and silently helped Kalina. She sensed that he was in trouble and didn't say a word, although giving him sideward glances every other minute. He ignored her, looking up at his mother who had walked out of the bathroom to face his father. His expression toward her was that of question and concern, and Timothy's mother sighed and shook her head, brushing past him to go into her old bedroom. He followed, and Timothy watched them disappear. What was it that his mother had against the woods? Why would she be so upset about him going there and not his grandfather, who suggested he go to the woods in the first place? His parents didn't come out of the room until Timothy, Kalina, and their grandparents were already seated and ready to eat. In silence, they ate; his mother's expression was indifferent.  
  
  
Hey,  
Today after school, I accidentally wound up in the woods that are off the path leading to home. I've always heard stories at school that some primitive magical people live in there and that they put a body bind spell on you and take your heads off with a hex. Mom says they're only stories; myths and legends. So, I thought I'd see if it was true when I found myself in the woods today. You won't believe it, but I think I saw someone in the bushes! Well, I was so scared that I ran out and down the path faster than a Cleansweep 7! If it was one of those magical people, I sure didn't want my head to be hexed off! I tried to tell mom and dad that I saw one of the primitive magical people, but they were convinced that it must have been someone from school playing a trick on me. Well, if it was, they sure got me good. Yet, you won't find me back in those woods again… just in case.   
  
"What'cha up to?"  
  
Timothy jumped, quickly shoving his uncle's diary he was reading before bed back under his pillow and turned around. His grandfather stood in the doorway, a look of apology on his face.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."  
  
"Oh, don't worry, I was just… just er…" Timothy didn't know if he should tell him… or anyone for that matter… that he was reading his dead uncle's diary. Instead, he twiddled his thumbs and looked about for an excuse.   
  
"I just wanted to apologize. I feel responsible for this afternoon." His grandfather continued without Timothy's explanation.   
  
"Responsible for what?" Timothy asked blankly, but then it dawned on him. "Oh… no, it was my fault. I should have gone into the village instead of the woods."  
  
"Nah… if I hadn't of suggested it you wouldn't have gone, you're too smart to have gone in if you thought it wasn't allowed. I didn't realize how your mother would react… it is dangerous there, especially these days." His grandfather walked in and patted Timothy's shoulder.  
  
"Granddad? Why was she so upset? Dad wasn't even mad." Timothy asked him as his grandfather walked out. He turned around and frowned with thought, then shook his head and sighed.  
  
"Well… she's just worried about her children, that's all. Sometimes the maternal instinct causes her to beat herself up if she thinks she slipped up in protecting you and your sister. Like I said, these are not friendly times anymore, and you shouldn't be out on your own. As for your dad, perhaps he thought you had enough reprimand from your mother." After a moment's pause, he smiled, muttered "good night" and left just as Kalina walked in.  
  
"What?" Timothy asked his sister sharply after she stopped to stare at him before getting in bed. She flinched at his tone.  
  
"Nothing. Goodnight." Sounding hurt, Kalina didn't waste time getting into her cot and turning over. Timothy sighed, bringing the diary back out and looking at the cover.  
  
"Sorry." He muttered, shoving the diary back under his pillow and he blew out the candles.  
  
Maybe what I saw is what mum's all upset about. Perhaps those people actually do exist? Timothy thought as he drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
"Timothy, come on! You can write to Darian later!"  
  
Hot and annoyed, Timothy touched his glasses, instantly turning them tinted. He packed up the letter he was writing and hurried to catch up with his family. It was the following day and they were spending the afternoon in Cocoa Beach. Timothy was eager to write to Darian and John, telling them about what he possibly had seen in the woods the day before. Unfortunately, there wasn't time to write before his family left for the beach, and he resorted to writing them while he was there.  
  
"There's a neat wizarding restaurant right on the beach, disguised as a dune patch. You can write your letters there… but for now, come on! We're here to spend time together!" His mother put her arms around him as he caught up. Kalina was sitting on their father's shoulders in front of them.  
  
"Kalina… you're too heavy… it's hot…" He moaned.  
  
"C'mon daddy! I'm too hot to walk." She whined back.  
  
"You two wouldn't survive one month living here. This is normal from March through October." Timothy's mother laughed, hugging him to her side as they walked. He had a feeling she felt bad for yesterday… he wasn't really upset at all at her… there was a reason for it.  
  
"I don't know how you did it, Renee. This is brutal! Are we there yet?" His father panted, wiping the sweat from his forehead.  
  
"Umm… yeah, I think so. I think that's it." She pointed over to a dune patch, completely free of sunbathing tourists. It must have had warding spells around the area to keep Muggles away. Sure enough, as they approached, a very large hut became visible. Wizards and witches all dressed in the typical Florida garb sat at tables laughing and shelling chilled shrimp.  
  
"Oh mannn… how I miss this. Shrimp heaven!" His mother clapped her hands  
  
"Lemmie guess what we're having for lunch." His father rolled his eyes, smiling and letting Kalina down.  
  
"I have to show my children the fine art of shelling a shrimp. It's not a simple task. Why else would they give you the option of doing it for you?" She ran ahead of them to get a table. His father sighed and looked down at Timothy and Kalina.  
  
"If there's one thing Floridians are famous for, it's shelling shrimp. Your mum is no exception you know."  
  
Sure enough, once seated, Timothy's mother ordered the largest bucket of freshly chilled shrimp and began the arduous process of peeling the clear shell off. Both Kalina and their father became determinedly engrossed on following her expertise, but Timothy was more interested in finishing his letters. Loosing his appetite as he saw a tray of eels being carried to the next table, Timothy gathered his parchment and quill and excused himself.  
  
"Don't be too long… the shrimp won't last forever!" His mother called after him, professionally squeezing a shrimp's tail and sucking every last bit of meat out.  
  
Walking out to where a bunch of hammocks were hung, Timothy decided to indulge himself in beach living and sat down in one. Before long, he was rocking back and forth, finishing up his letter to Darian and beginning one to John.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Timothy turned around with effort in the netted swing and saw a blonde girl about his age, dressed in a bikini top and Capri shorts.  
  
"You're sitting in it wrong." She pointed at him.  
  
He looked at her blankly.  
  
"How can you sit in a hammock wrong?"  
  
"Tourists," She rolled her eyes. "You lay down in a hammock; it's not a swing."  
  
"Oh." He shrugged, turning back to his letter. As he re-read it, Timothy got a fleeting idea.  
  
"Er… hey!" He called at the girl, who was going back inside the restaurant.  
  
"'Sup?" She put her hands on her hips, turning back to him.  
  
"Umm… you wouldn't know anything about myths around here, would you?" He bit his lip. This girl was obviously local and bumbling tourists appeared to phase her.  
  
It was her turn to blink at him.  
  
"Myths? Like what?"  
  
"Magical people who live out in the wilderness; primitive like." He said, struggling to get out of the hammock to face her properly.  
  
She looked puzzled a minute, then realization dawned on her.  
  
"Oh! You mean the cavemen wizards!"  
  
"Cavemen wizards?" Timothy ran his hand through his hair, which was filled with sand from the blowing wind.  
  
"Well, it's really the only myth we have. Florida has beaches, not Loch Ness Monsters." She crossed her arms.  
  
"Actually, there is such a thing as the Loch Ness Monster. My dad took me to see it one time when I was little." He pointed out.  
  
"Figures, you obviously being from the UK." The girl tossed her hair absentmindedly while staring at her shuffling feet in the sand. Timothy began to lose patience.  
  
"Well? What about these cavemen wizards?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
"Well, people say that these Indian-type folk hang out in the forests. They use magic from nature, I think. No one's ever seen one, and lived! They say they can capture your soul and sell it pirates on the West Coast."  
  
"Sell it to pirates?" He cocked his head with raised eyebrows, disbelieving.  
  
"It's what I heard… then again, aren't all myths tall tales? I also heard they run around naked."  
  
"Well that's helpful," Timothy sighed sarcastically. "I'll just look out for some streaking magical Indians and I'm all set!"  
  
The girl laughed at him.  
  
"Why do you want to know anyway? I've heard that they don't hang around the coast, that big Muggle contraption that goes off into space every other month or so keeps them away."  
  
"I'm visiting my grandparents. They live about an hour inland. There's some woods by their house and I've heard something about people in there… but I haven't heard a full story." He didn't think he should mention that he thought he saw one of these "cavemen wizards".  
  
"Well, good luck then." The girl flashed a brief half-bored smile and went back inside. Timothy looked back out at the ocean; the girl wasn't that much help at all. He made up his mind that he had to go back… something about the way his mother reacted to him being there puzzled him. If it was all just tall tales, and his mother was intelligent enough not to believe, why would she be so upset? As he headed back inside, Timothy also thought it would be wise to search his uncle's diary for any more entries about the woods. Perhaps that would help him.  
  
"Timothy, you've missed half the bucket!" His mother called out to him as he sat down.  
  
"So have we… you're a lot faster than us. We peel one shrimp for every one of your three!" His father said, helping Kalina gather the edible pieces of a shrimp she had destroyed in the process of peeling it.  
  
"Practice makes perfect you know." She smiled at them. When she turned to Timothy again, she noticed that he wasn't eating but lost in thought. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," He replied quickly, picking up a shrimp and studying it. "Just unraveling a mystery."  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Timothy could see his mother watching him closely. Her expression was hard to read, especially when she stole a glance at his father who wore an equal look.  
  
  
Honestly telling the truth, Timothy announced shortly after getting back to his grandparents' house that he was tired and wanted to go to bed early. No one objected, and he retreated to his uncle's old room with eagerness to consult the diary. Making sure that the door was closed, he brought it out from his hiding place and flipped through the pages. For a old little leather-bound book, it had a lot of pages that spanned years. He stopped at one entry that his uncle wrote when he was 17-  
  
Dear Diary  
My little sister, Renee, is a real handful. Mom has me babysitting her nearly every chance that I've got. She loves to go outside and play, which is fine by me. I fly my broom while she runs around trying to catch me. It's really funny! However, Renee has this uncanny ability to walk off without me knowing. For the third time this week, I found her in the woods. If mom ever finds out, she'll roast me, toast me, and burn me to a crisp with two shakes and a wave of her wand before I could say "Oops". Renee finds this very amusing…   
  
Timothy was getting somewhere. He skipped a more pages and read another entry a year later-  
  
Dear Diary  
I caught five-year old Renee out in the woods again. She's convinced that she's found a kid to play with in there… but I haven't seen anything move in those freaky woods since that day when I was twelve. Renee doesn't understand why I flip out when I find her there… and she still goes back. It's a wonder she hasn't mentioned anything to mom or dad; I certainly haven't! Nor do I plan to. If there's one thing more than keeping my own hide out of trouble… it's keeping my little sister safe.  
  
Bingo. There it was, Timothy read the article more closely again. "She's convinced that she's found a kid to play with in there." His uncle wanted to keep her safe. Perhaps this "kid" was one of those "cavemen wizards". Maybe something happened that scared her and she won't go back. But then, why was the pencil so far inside the woods? Certainly a five-year old couldn't reach that far without his uncle noticing. Could she have continued going back? Timothy decided to read some more. He found another entry a few months after the previous one. The first part said nothing, but as he read on, he found some more about his mother:  
  
…I'll be starting my job for the government tomorrow, and I'm afraid that Renee will be on her own. She hasn't mentioned anything more about the "boy in the woods", nor have I found her there. Then again, I'm not outside much at all anymore. She goes out by herself. Renee's pretty bright for her age, and I trust her that she knows what she's doing. So, I no longer pester her about staying away from the woods. However, if I hear or see anything that harms her, you can bet I'll be marching through those woods to give whomever a good hex!  
  
That was it. His uncle didn't mention anything more about his mother and the woods. He sighed out loud, closing the worn diary and yawning. Just as he was stuffing the diary back under his pillow, the door swung open. His father came in carrying Kalina, fast asleep in his arms. He smiled at Timothy as he placed her gently onto the cot. Timothy's mother came in shortly and got Kalina undressed and into a nightgown. She smiled at him too, coming over to tuck him in. Gratefully, he snuggled under the cool sheets, suddenly realizing how hot his skin was. His mother clucked softly.  
  
"And you had sunscreen on too." She whispered. "I think your grandmother still has some aloe potion somewhere. First thing when you wake up, I'll put some on you."  
  
They said prayers and said goodnight. As Timothy watched his mother blow out the candles and closed the door behind her as she left, he couldn't help wondering what it was that his mother feared about the woods. For now, the mission to find the family crest was forgotten for the first time that summer. His mission now was to find his mother's secret fear.  
  
  
A/N: If you've read "A Day Without Rain" and think you know what Renee's deal is with the woods, you're right! However, there's more to it with Timothy's venture. So, the next chapter should be rather interesting for you! Also, I have a lot more interesting and exciting things planned for chapter 3, so that's not all.  
  
So, with this chaptering system, you'll get an authoralert when I update "Shadows of Yesterday" with a new chapter. It will no longer say the chapter #, just the name of the story. So heads up! That's the only part I don't like... it's hard to tell when they've had a chapter added. Oh well.  
  
Renee's site will keep you posted! I update it all the time, you know.  
http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com  
  
And thank you for your encouragement on the Preamble. However I have been incredibly stupid and just realized that it must be memorized by Monday. So, guess what I'll be doing all weekend! As for chapter 3, look for it by next friday! Or... just click ahead to chap. 3... if you're reading this after 2/9/01.  
  
~OrcaPotter :-) 


	3. Summerray

A/N: Welcome to chapter three peeps, I wanted to finish this pronto so that my recent cold would not effect it adversely too much. However, I believe what happens here is crucial to the plot and quite entertaining. I was afraid it was dragging, but that's something I always say and your wonderful REVIEWS tell me otherwise. You all know that REVIEWS are very important to an author, don't you? If you're an author, you love reviews too! Reviews is what makes a good author great. I'll spare you a great patriotic speech, for I know you're eager to read. So read, and then REVIEW!  
YOU know what? I've already put enough disclaimers on this story. You can consider this story disclaimed and see this message no more.  
  
  
Chapter Three: Summerray  
  
It wasn't sunshine the next morning that woke Timothy, it was thunder. The usual Florida thunderstorm that would roll over the land in the late afternoon apparently decided to come early, forecasting an entire day of rain. Timothy sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair as he saw Kalina wake up with a start at the sound of another thunderclap.  
  
"Hurricane!" She gasped, looking up at Timothy.  
  
"No… we would've known a lot sooner if it was a hurricane. It's just an early storm, that's all." Timothy assured her.  
  
Kalina looked relieved, but flinched as light flashed in front of the window and thunder followed. She flew out of bed and jumped into his, clinging to Timothy.  
  
"Kalina…!" He sighed, trying to pry his little sister from his neck.  
  
"Do you think mum and dad are up yet?" She asked, ignoring his efforts to pull her off.  
  
At her words, worried mumbling could just be heard from outside the door. After another clap of thunder, Timothy forced his way from Kalina's grasp and went outside. He stopped at the end of the hallway where he could see his father, still dressed in his pajamas, pacing in front of the fireplace in the family room. His mother was standing still off to the side, a mixed expression of worry, disappointment, anger, and something else he couldn't identify on her face. Both of his grandparents were putting around the kitchen making a hasty breakfast. No one noticed Timothy staring at them all, even when Kalina ran out to stand next to him.  
  
"There was no other alternative, I'm sorry Harry… Renee. We don't know what to make of it. I hate to say it, but we need you back here as soon as possible. Things are going downhill quicker than we expected."  
  
As Timothy's father moved his pace, he could just see his Great-uncle Us's head floating in the fire. From what Timothy could see, he looked stressed and worried. Obviously he called his parents with unhappy news.  
  
"Are you sure, Sirius? Is it really so bad that the rest in the Circle can't handle it for another three days?" Timothy's mother asked.  
  
"Without you're expertise, no. There… there's been some deaths." Great-uncle Us said sadly.  
  
Timothy's father stopped in mid-pace.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"A couple called the Dines and another called the Smiths. I believe they were involved with what happened at Hogwarts recently, am I right?"  
  
"Yes," Timothy's father said dryly. "This is not entirely surprising."  
  
"We should have expected…" Timothy's mother sighed, looking away.  
  
"That Taku Smith fellow we arrested has been hard to control for the wardens in Azkaban. Those freak'n wizards keep asking for the Dementors back, but like that'll ever happen… after last time."  
  
"Have you upped security on him?" Timothy's father asked.  
  
"Yes, and I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, that's being handled. But Harry, we really need you and Renee back here for this. Lupin and I are getting too old to keep up with this pace, you know. It really has us baffled." Great-uncle Us pleaded apologetically.  
  
Timothy's parents exchanged looks; his mother disappointed and angry and his father tired and exasperated. Finally, they nodded.  
  
"We'll be there in a few hours. Can you call Ron and Hermione and ask if they can watch the kids?" Started his father, but his mother put her hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Harry, wouldn't it be better if they stayed…?"  
  
"No… no, I want them close in case… in case they…" His father stared at the floor, and after a few moments, his mother nodded.  
  
"Yes, perhaps you're right… yes."  
  
Timothy couldn't believe it. His mind filled with random thoughts as Kalina tugged at his arm.  
  
"Does this mean we're going home today? What has happened?"  
  
"We better go pack." Timothy whispered absentmindedly, turning and going back into his uncle's old room. Kalina followed tentatively, unsure.  
  
"But… Timothy… I don't want to go home so soon."  
  
"We don't have a choice, Kalina." He said, picking up his clothes and putting them on.  
  
Kalina opened her mouth to argue, but stared at Timothy's example and began to get dressed herself. Timothy had begun to tie his shoes on the floor when his eyes fell on the broken yellow pencil under the bed. His eyes widened as his random thoughts fell on the one that had been bothering him the most for the past two days.  
  
"The woods…" He muttered, picking up the pieces and looking at them. There was no way of finding out about the significance of the woods and his mother now. He would never know… unless…  
  
"I'll be right back, Kalina." Timothy got up, dropping the broken pencil, and left the room without another word.  
  
"What? Timothy? Where are you…?" Kalina called after him, but he didn't hear her once he had left the house. Splashing through muddy puddles and jogging through thin rain while thunder rolled around him, Timothy headed down the worn path. It was sooner than expected when Timothy came to the fork in the path, the woods looking more ominous in the muted lighting of the morning from the storm. Pausing momentarily and catching his breath, he pressed onward through the mud and into the woods.  
  
"Hello!" He called out. "Anyone out there?!" It was impossible to see the old trail, so Timothy blundered about in the wet bushes, calling out every other minute. "Hello?!"  
  
It didn't take long for Timothy to realize how stupid he was, running around outside in the rain and lightning calling out for mythical people who most likely didn't exist. His clothes were completely soaked, his messy hair even worse as it clung to his wet face. The broken pencil was still clutched in his hand as he brushed fern palms aside and plants that he couldn't identify.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you!" Timothy cried, feeling stupid. Only thunder answered him and he finally found a clearing. Peering closely through his misted glasses, Timothy could tell that he was back in the same clearing where he had found the broken pencil. The buds on the nearby hibiscus bush were closed and the tree he had ran into could just be seen in front of him.  
  
"Don't move!" Barked a high-pitched voice.  
  
Timothy yelped and jumped, becoming stalk still. Only his eyes moved as he searched the surrounding plant life for the source of the voice. He couldn't see a thing until he looked down at the leaf-strewn floor. A brightly multi-colored snake was coiled at his feet. Timothy held his breath in fear.  
  
"What colors you see?" asked the voice.  
  
"Uh…" Timothy could hardly speak. "Uh… not sure."  
  
"Does red touch yellow?"  
  
Timothy contained his fear to peer closer at the snake without moving his head.  
  
"No… I don't think so."  
  
"Does red touch black?"  
  
Oh, where's dad when you need him? I can't talk to snakes… but I think I can hear them! Timothy whined in his head, swallowing hard and taking another look at the snake.  
  
"Yes… yes, I think so."  
  
Suddenly a stick came out of nowhere and prodded the snake to move away. Timothy's knees began to shake as the snake tried to move toward him angrily, but the stick just swiped it to the side. He followed the length of the stick to see it originate from a large bush. As he saw the snake finally slither away from the corner of his eye, Timothy let out a loud gasp of relief.  
  
"That was close." His body sagged. As he heard the bush move, Timothy snapped back to attention. "Wait! Come here! Please?"  
  
The bush stopped moving, and Timothy could just see a pair of bright eyes in the light of a single lightning flash. It took a few moments, but slowly, a figure emerged from the bush. Taking a quick look at his feet to make sure the snake was gone, Timothy moved closer. The figure moved back, but didn't leave.  
  
"My name is Timothy… Timothy Potter. Who are you?" He asked gently.  
  
"Surely you would've known the saying… you come from the outside, you." The figure was that of a girl, a little older than he was. Timothy could just make out long dark hair and tanned skin. She was wearing a long tunic, with feathers woven into her hair.  
  
"What saying?" Timothy asked, confused at such an answer.  
  
"Red touches black is a friend of Jack; Red touches yellow can kill a fellow. I learn from father, father learn from the outside. Do you not come from the outside?"  
  
"Er…" Timothy wasn't sure what to say. "From outside of the woods? Yes. I come from a different land though, from far away."  
  
The girl stepped closer with curious and surprised eyes.  
  
"Do you not have color serpents where you come from?"  
  
"Not those types of snakes… no. My dad, he can talk to snakes though… he would know."  
  
"Ohh…" The girl gasped, looking at him. "Your father has the serpent tongue? He must be a powerful Shaman, yeah?"  
  
Timothy nodded.  
  
"He's a powerful wizard, yes."  
  
"Why don't you?" she asked.  
  
"Er…" Timothy wasn't sure how to answer; it was a long story.  
  
"You ran into tree the other day." The girl pointed to the tree that he had blindly ran into.  
  
"Umm… yeah, I did." He ran his hand through his hair, blushing.  
  
"Nimarsho… stupid." She laughed at him, coming closer and brushing past his side. Her movements were fluid-like and her eyes were bright and alert. Timothy watched her in fascination as she ran her hands under the hibiscus buds, making them bloom in full color.  
  
"You still haven't told me your name." Timothy came up to her.  
  
"Summerray, daughter of head Shaman. And you," she turned to stare directly at him. "One with eyes so wide like owl's would know better to see where he was going."  
  
Timothy blushed a deeper red.  
  
"I've been preoccupied." He admitted.  
  
Summerray considered him, cocking her head to one side.  
  
"Emm… yes, you're color is busy. You on a quest?"  
  
"Yeah," Timothy answered, shocked. "How do you know?"  
  
"We don't need special sticks to use our magic. The earth magic knows; it tells me." Summerray answered matter-of-factually.  
  
"You mean ley-lines?" Timothy asked.  
  
"Ley-lines?" She looked at him, confused.  
  
"Never mind." He shook his head. Summerray shrugged and continued with the hibiscus flowers, making their sweet smell become stronger so that Timothy could smell them from a distance. He stared at her with fascination; she was not a "caveman wizard" that took your soul and sells it to pirates on the West Coast. Instead, for a powerful looking girl, she was quite… pretty.  
  
"You are not one of those who come through our woods to hunt us," Summerray smiled at him. "Why, my owl eye, do you come shouting as if in dire need?"  
  
Timothy had to think a moment to process what she was asking. Snapping out of his stare, he blushed and began to stammer.  
  
"I… I er… I was… I mean I was… well," he cleared his throat. "I was looking to see if you really did exist… and if by being so you could help me find out why the woods upset my mum so much."  
  
Summerray looked at him, confused.  
  
"I do not understand. How would I know?"  
  
"I… well, I… uhh…" Timothy suddenly realized that she was right. It was so long ago that his mother last left the woods… whatever the reason could be could be gone for all he knew.  
  
As he continued to mumble wordlessly, shuffling his feet, Summerray considered him again with more intent focus.  
  
"This can't possibly be the reason for you quest. If it was, than you would know the answer right away. No… you seek something more… something much more important."  
  
"My mum is important." Timothy found the words, his eyes narrowed.  
  
"The only one who can help your mother is herself. You should focus on your own problem now… I have a feeling the world depends on it."  
  
Timothy grew annoyed. The idea of his destiny made him curse under his breath. He had plenty of time for that… right now was his only chance to find out about his mother.  
  
"My mum has enough to worry about… I at least want to understand why she suddenly is afraid of the woods when at one time it was her favorite place to be!"  
  
Summerray couldn't answer. They exchanged intent stares at one another before she suddenly stood up straight and stiff as a board. Her ears flicked like a horse and her eyes grew wide as she looked past Timothy and into the trees.  
  
"What is it?" Timothy asked, turning to see where she was looking, but he didn't see anything. "I don't…"  
  
He turned back and Summerray was gone. "Summerray?"  
  
"TIMOTHY!"  
  
A loud sound of snapping branches and swishing leaves came from back behind him; his mother's voice rang out in panic and determination.  
  
"TIMOTHY!"  
  
"Mum!" He cried out. "Over here!"  
  
The crashing sounds of her footfalls became louder and more hurried.  
  
"Timothy!"  
  
"I'm here!" He moved to go toward her, but there was no need. His mother burst into the clearing where he was and instantly grabbed him into a protective hug.  
  
"Oh, Timothy! Oh, Timothy, why? Why did you disobey me? I told you not to go back here, it's dangerous!" She fussed with his hair, hugged him again, and fussed with his hair once more. Her eyes looked close to tears.  
  
"I'm sorry, mum," he mumbled through her shoulder as she pulled him into another hug. "I just had to know… I had to find out."  
  
"Find out what, sweetheart?"  
  
"Why are you afraid of the woods?" He forced himself to pull away, looking into her eyes.  
  
"Yes, why are you afraid, my Artist?"  
  
Timothy jumped, but his mother simply became still. Behind her, where Timothy could see, stood Summerray standing next to a very tall man carrying a large feather decorated spear. He had on an elaborate tunic with long dark hair falling on his shoulders. Strong and muscular, he didn't look that much older than his mother and father. As intimidating as he looked, the man was smiling, his arm around Summerray as she looked at him with an interested glare.  
  
His mother closed her eyes, then opened them again to look at Timothy. He looked back into the same blue that he inherited from her and longed to know the cause of the pain he saw inside of them. Slowly, she stood up straight and turned to the man and Summerray, her expression hard to read.  
  
"When last I saw a child, I now see a woman. My Artist, you've blossomed as the lumfar. Why is it, that you're eyes of sky, now wise beyond years, looks at me so vainly?" The man asked, his voice strong and melodious.  
  
"I thought you would remember, Moonfoot." Timothy's mother whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling him to stand just behind her back.  
  
"What happened then was necessary for now. We've both been blessed during our absence, I can see." Moonfoot peered at Timothy with an interested grin. He stared wide-eyed back, looking from Moonfoot to Summerray with utmost interest.  
  
"You left me when I needed you most." His mother's voice rose.  
  
The smile nearly disappeared on Moonfoot's face, he put a large hand on Summerray's shoulder.  
  
"It was necessary."  
  
"Necessary? Moonfoot, we were friends! You were my only friend! The last time I came after my brother left, I came to you. The one time I needed you the most, you did not come. You ignored me for the sake of necessity that you foresaw. But friends don't do that, Moonfoot, not where I come from. Friends are there for you no matter what… destiny or no destiny." Her voice shook. Timothy looked up at her, searching her face. There it was… the whole truth.  
  
"If I had come, you wouldn't of left. If I had come, you would not have found the one you truly love. If I had come, your son would not be standing behind you. And… if I had come, the world would not be here at all." Moonfoot's face took on the sense of power that he emitted, and Timothy shivered at the sight. Summerray, however, seemed to glow like her father… the power these people had was awe-inspiring.  
  
Timothy's mother wasn't sure what to say. She looked away, her hand grasping his tightly. He looked into Summerray's eyes as she watched them both, curiously.  
  
"My Artist," Moonfoot consoled. "We have always been friends… even though we have been apart. I have never forgotten you… as you can ask my Summerray here. She saved your son today with the knowledge that I had learned from you."   
  
"What?" Timothy's mother snapped back to look from Timothy, to Summerray, and to Moonfoot. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Owl eyes, there, nearly stepped on a color serpent. If it wasn't for the saying that father taught me, I wouldn't have been able to know if it was deadly." Summerray answered her.  
  
"Color serpent? You mean a coral snake?" She turned to look at Timothy. "You stepped on a coral snake?"  
  
"Nearly," he muttered, looking at Summerray. "Summerray stopped me before I could, and got it to go away."  
  
His mother looked flustered, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looked at Summerray and Moonfoot in turn.  
  
"Thank you… I… thanks."  
  
It wasn't until a long paused followed that Timothy remembered just how wet he was from rain. The canopy of the woods had filtered out the raindrops to a sporadic drip. His mother was just as drenched as he was, the hems of her wizarding robes completely covered in mud. Moonfoot and Summerray, however, looked completely unfazed.  
  
"The magics speak to me… times have yet again turned for the worst. Where you have gone and came from is no longer alone, soon it will be felt by all here." Moonfoot said.  
  
"I know," she sighed, whatever anger she had felt was lost and she looked at her old friend desperately. "Oh, Moonfoot… I'm afraid that me… and my husband, my Etam Luos, aren't sure what to do anymore. Malfoy is… is more powerful than we have ever imagined him capable of."  
  
For the first time, Moonfoot moved toward her, and she allowed him to wrap his strong and powerful arms around her. Summerray came closer to Timothy; her expression was much the same as his, knowing and sympathetic.  
  
"My Artist," he sighed. "Like I had told you before we left each other, you have power beyond those who live among you. And yet… and you know… this battle is not for you."  
  
Timothy's mother shook her head in agreement, then looked over and down at Timothy. The look in her eyes told him what she was thinking of. The battle was his.  
  
The thunder had returned, and among the booms came the sound of crashing coming toward them in the woods. His mother pulled apart slightly from Moonfoot, and he lifted her chin and looked at her lovingly.  
  
"You see, I did come after all. No matter how far apart we are, I shall always be in your heart… as you will be in mine." And he kissed her on her forehead.  
  
"Renee?! Timothy?! Are you out there?!" Timothy's father was running toward them in the rain, his wand lighted. Moonfoot had backed away, looking at his mother and then at Timothy.  
  
"May those of the natural powers be with you, Timothy. Remember this, the answers you seek start without seeking at all."  
  
"Moonfoot I'm… I'm sorry!" Timothy's mother cried as Moonfoot began to walk into the woods.  
  
"When you need me again, I will come. Goodbye, my Artist." He took one step backward, and disappeared. Timothy's father could be heard yelling again over the thunder, and his mother took a moment before yelling out herself.  
  
"Harry! Over here! I've got him, we're fine!"  
  
Timothy was looking around for Summerray; she had already disappeared. He felt disappointed at not saying goodbye. When he moved to grab his mother's hand, he felt someone grab his from behind him.  
  
"Shall we meet again, Owl Eyes?" Summerray smiled playfully at him.  
  
"I… er…" Timothy felt himself blush.  
  
"If my father has his Artist, than I have my Owl with his Artist's eyes. May you blunder into my heart as well." She laughed at him.  
  
"Blunder…?" Timothy scowled, only making the high-pitch giggle return. He felt redder than a tomato. Summerray took up his hand and kissed his palm, laughing again at Timothy's expression.  
  
"Grulemo on your quest, my Owl Eyes." And with that, she was gone. Timothy stood stupidly rooted to his spot, even after his father had bounded into the clearing and threw his arms around his mother.  
"You just up and left… I had no idea… felt you worried… Timothy was gone too, Kalina told me…" He said through her long brown, and wet, hair.  
  
"It's all right, Harry… I'm fine… I'm sorry…" Timothy's mother buried her head into his neck. After a moment, his father looked over at him. Timothy felt pathetic, standing soaked in the rain, as he father gave him a mixed dangerous expression. Coming from his father, it was a dangerous position.  
  
"Timothy…" he began, but Timothy stopped him.  
  
"I'm sorry, dad, I was stupid. I shouldn't have run out here like that without telling you… and for even going here at all. I'm sorry."  
  
His father was about to say something more, when his mother stopped him, shaking her head.  
  
"It's all right, Harry, he knows. We'll discuss this later, right now we need to finish packing and get back home."  
  
He looked at her then finally nodded, motioning to Timothy for him to come beside him. Timothy did so, cautiously, and was relieved to feel his father put his arm around his shoulders and lead both him and his mother out of the woods. They didn't speak again, even after they had gotten back to the house and walked past Timothy's concerned grandparents and a bemused Kalina. Without a word, Timothy went to pack, scratching his arms and hands as he tossed his clothes into his suitcase. Kalina was already done, and was in the kitchen with their grandmother. He doubled checked to make sure, then went back to his pillow and pulled out the diary. Staring at the beaten leather cover, Timothy debated in his mind on what to do with it. After a moment, he shook his head and was about to place it back behind the headboard where he originally found it when he stopped. Not knowing the entire reason why, he pulled the diary back into the light.  
  
"Perhaps you could help me again, Uncle Timothy." He muttered under his breath, and quickly shoved the old diary under some shirts in his suitcase… scratching his hands without a second thought.  
  
An hour later, Timothy and his family were standing in front of his grandparent's fireplace saying goodbye.  
  
"Keep in touch, honey." His grandmother kissed his mother goodbye.  
  
"I will mom… sorry we have to run out on you like this, we all were looking forward…" she began, but her mother shushed her.  
  
"Serves us right for running out on you all the time. When this all blows over, you all come back now, hear?"  
  
"You've lived in the south too long, mom." Timothy's mother rolled her eyes.  
  
His father had tossed Floo Powder into the fireplace, sending up green flames. He said goodbye, kissing Timothy's grandmother and shaking his grandfather's hand, before stepping into the fire and shouting "Potter residence!". He disappeared instantly. Kalina had to be shoved into the fireplace, reluctantly saying goodbye as she shouted the words too. Timothy was next, stepping into the flames and scratching his hands.  
  
Stupid skin… what's up with this bloody itch? He thought to himself, waving goodbye and saying the words. With a whirl of green, he careened past hundreds of fireplaces before stepping out of his own. Back home where his father and sister were already putting bags away. He stepped out and to the side, dropping his bag and began to scratch frantically at his hands. They were all red and itchy. Could it be the sunburn? He thought.  
  
Finally, after a few minutes, his mother came through the fireplace. She looked depressed and tired, dropping her bag with an attitude of discontent. He gave her a wry smile, still amazed at what he had witnessed in the woods. Had she repented her anger toward the people of the woods? Mainly Moonfoot, her friend? Her face only showed a trace of relief, and she looked over at him and smiled sadly back… but suddenly frowned with concern as she watched him scratch vigorously at his hands and arms.  
  
"Mum, I've got this…" he started as she came forward to look at him closer, when her eyes went wide.  
  
"Oh, Timothy! Oh, no… I had forgotten… why didn't I ever tell you…?" Instead of grabbing his hands to look at them closer and soothe them, she grabbed her own and looked up at her father quickly as if something was dreadfully wrong.  
  
"What is it?" Timothy was taken aback by her actions.  
  
"When you walked through the woods, did you brush by any plants where the leaves were in groups of three?" She asked him quickly, grabbing his shirtsleeve and taking him into the bathroom past the bewildered faces of his father and sister.  
  
"I don't remember." He answered honestly, startled.  
  
"Leaves of three, let them be…" he heard her mutter under her breath as she looked into the medicine cabinet where they kept all their healing potions. "Timothy, you've got poison ivy all over your hands and arms."  
  
"I do?" he looked down at his hands stupidly as she took his elbows and pushed his hands under running water in the sink.  
  
"Yes, and most likely I've got it all over my hands and your father as well. Oh, and we don't have anything for it! Shoot!" she slammed her fists on the counter, making Timothy jump. Obviously this situation only made her stressed state-of-mind worse. "Harry! Harry, come here, quick!"  
  
Timothy's father came running, staring concernedly at his wife and Timothy in turn.  
  
"What? What is it? We have to go soon, you know."  
  
"Harry, did you touch Kalina at all?" Timothy's mother asked quickly, grabbing a potion bottle from under the sink labeled "Anti-Itch".  
  
"Er…" he looked completely confused, beginning to run his hand through his hair. Timothy's mother nearly dropped the bottle, waving her hands at him.  
  
"STOP! Don't do that!"  
  
"What?!" his father jumped, face half-surprised, half-annoyed.  
  
"You've got poison ivy on your hands! We all do."  
  
"Poison ivy?" he blurted out just as stupidly as Timothy had. "But how would Kalina…?"  
  
"It's contagious, and all we have for it is this anti-itch cream. It won't work to get rid of it." His mother sighed, putting a little of the cream on her hands and taking Timothy's in them, rubbing the cream all over.  
  
"Oh… no…" his father moaned. "We can't deal with this now, Sirius is expecting us."  
  
"Just give me a moment and I'll call my mom back. The fireplaces are linked until the end of the day, so if she has something I can go get it real quick."  
  
Nearly an hour later, Timothy's mother came back through the fireplace holding a large bottle of pink goo. By that time, he wasn't the only one scratching at pink and inflamed skin.  
  
"Stop… cut it out, you'll just spread it around and make it worse." His mother scolded all three of them, her face contorted in her own itching agony. She covered both of Timothy's arms with the pink medicine, then conjured up some oven mitts and some spellotape. "It's the only way, sweetheart, to keep you from scratching. Grand says that this should help with the itch and get rid of the poison ivy in a day or so."  
  
When she was through, both Timothy and Kalina were tended to and guarded against the temptation of scratching by the taped oven mitts. His parents' arms and hands were covered in the pink goo, minus the mitts. They did not look happy for more than one reason.  
  
Timothy sat back on the sofa unhappily, when his back was prodded by something sharp. He turned around and saw Jeff's claw clippers lodged in between the cushions. "Mum? Where's Jeff?"  
  
The room fell silent as everyone shrugged. It wasn't until then that muffled yelling could be heard from the kitchen. Everyone leaped to their feet and hurried toward the sound, walking into the kitchen only to see a long yellow and purple tentacle tail thrashing wildly from under the oven.  
  
"Mmmff… 'elllllpppp!" It was Jeff, stuck and mad.  
  
"Jeff?" Timothy got on his knees and tried hard to pull him out with his hands covered by the mitts. It wasn't long until Kalina joined him, but there was no need, for both of their parents had drawn out their wands and shouted a summoning spell… making Jeff nearly fly from under the oven.  
  
"Ahhh! Oh… ow… ow… ooohhh that's it! That's it! I'm calling my lawyer! Abuse, I tell you, abuse!" Jeff moaned, rubbing his head tentatively with his claws.  
  
"We're sorry Jeff," Timothy's mother said soothingly, trying not to touch him as he hands were covered in the pink potion. "But we got a little sidetracked and didn't hear you until now."  
  
"Sidetracked?! I could be dead under there and you wouldn't even notice until the rotting smell got unbearable! What's with this now? Am I a common dog? I'm always forgotten! Did I not help save your life once upon a time?! What thanks do I get?! You all go out for a sunny vacation and leave me cooped up here with only snakes to chase!" Jeff's normal yellow color had turned a hot shade of pink in his anger, fire licking his lips as he spoke. Timothy had never seen him so mad, and Kalina had taken refuge behind their father in fear.  
  
"What do you mean, snakes?" Both of Timothy's parents asked, looking guilty and suspicious at the same time.  
  
Jeff was huffing and puffing too fast to answer. Carefully, Timothy reached out his mitt-covered hand to stroke Jeff's head. It was several minutes before Jeff settled and allowed the comfort.  
  
"I promise never to forget you again," Timothy said. "On my honor."  
  
Timothy gave Jeff his famous innocent puppy-eyes, and Jeff's smug disbelief wavered slightly.  
  
"Yeah, well… I've heard it before. If you leave me out in the cold one more time, I'll fry you faster than you can say 'KFC'."  
  
"What does…?" Timothy began to question the last statement before his parents interrupted him.  
  
"Jeff, you haven't told us what you mean by 'snakes'."  
  
The small dragon had returned to his normal yellow color and disdainfully sauntered back over to the oven. He held his head heatedly above him, regarding both of Timothy's parents as inferior.  
  
"We don't have time for this, lizard lips, spill it out!" Timothy's father snapped, his wand flashing.  
  
"Lizard lips?!" Jeff snorted.  
  
"Harry…" Timothy's mother warned, putting a hand gently on his even with the pink goo nearly sticking them together. She looked impatiently back down at Jeff. "I'm sorry about what happened, but please tell us before the next century, please?"   
  
"Perhaps I will… if you promise not to leave me alone while you frolic in paradise again, and let me have more control over my magic, and allow me to go back with Wild One there when school starts again!" Jeff demanded.  
  
"Jeff, you know…" Timothy's mother started, but now his father interrupted her-  
  
"Whatever… just tell us, we have an urgent meeting to go to and you're keeping us up."  
  
"Well excuse me!" Jeff chortled. "I'm so sorry to keep you! Why not just leave me like you so readily do all the time, huh?"  
  
Timothy had better sense not to mock his parents, with all their power. His father especially. He and Jeff always got into silly tiffs over things, but this took the cake.  
  
"Oh, that's it!" Before Timothy's mother could so much as blink, his father whipped his wand out in front of him and shouted "Transmortica Ramificus!"  
  
Jeff didn't have time to yell protest before the spell hit him. A loud snap and pop amongst red light exploded by the oven. Timothy's mother reprimanded his father with all patience lost. Kalina had scurried over to cower behind Timothy. Timothy himself watched the smoke clear the kitchen in horror and fear of what his father had done to one of his best friends.  
  
"Dad!" he cried, pulling at his hair. "You turned my best friend into… into a goat!"   
  
Sure enough, standing in the spot where the yellow Jefforagon once stood, was a yellow goat.  
  
"Harry! Look what you've done! How can he possibly tell us what he meant by snakes now?!"  
  
Jeff kicked his hind legs and could only baah in protest. Timothy was flabbergasted, but Kalina got over her fear immediately and found the situation quite humorous.  
  
"Ah, the annoying git deserves it. Let him butt his head into more appliances while we're out." Timothy's father looked dispassionately at Jeff who had begun to do just that, then turned and left the kitchen.  
  
"But, Harry!" Timothy's mother rushed after him. Timothy himself tried to corral the yellow goat the best he could with the mitts taped to his itching hands. Kalina was too caught up in a giggling fit to be of any help.  
  
"Get 'em! Get 'em!" She half-giggled, half-yelled to Timothy as he attempted vainly to catch him.  
  
"Oh, shut up, Kalina!" He growled, his own patience lost as Jeff nearly butted his head flat to the floor. It was at that moment that a flutter of wings flew in through an open kitchen window and a letter landed on Timothy's head. He stopped his chase, leaving Jeff to blunder into the pantry and begin kicking out all the groceries. The letter had the Hogwarts seal embalmed on the envelope lip and his address was written in emerald letters across the front. As he looked up at the perch where the family owls stayed, he saw that both Hedwig and Keto (his parents' owls) as well as Windstone (his own owl) were now perched next to a large brown owl that obviously belonged to the school. He opened the letter while Kalina looked over his shoulder curiously. It only held a brief message from Professor Slimak, the deputy headmistress, and a list of his supplies for the second year. He had only just begun to go down the list when a simultaneous call from the living room and bang from the kitchen pantry got his attention.  
  
"Timothy! Kalina! C'mon, we're going!"  
  
His father's voice rang out across the house all tense and irritated, so both Timothy and Kalina did not hesitate to run at the command.  
  
  
An hour later, Timothy found himself seated on his Godparents' house, next to Kalina. Both of them still had the oven mitts taped to their hands, which the itch had only just begun to ease. Joseph, his "cousin", could hardly contain his snickering as he poked at Kalina.  
  
"What'chu have oven mitts on for?" his boyish grin only made Timothy want to slap him. What use that would have was embarrassing.  
  
Kalina smirked at him as Timothy could only sigh and look away, watching his Godparents scuttle hastily about the kitchen as they bickered about stuff only a married couple could get phased about. This allowed his thoughts to wander, and surprisingly he didn't immediately think about his quest or about his mother's fear of the woods… but of the letters he had written to Darian and John.   
  
"Bet they'll hex me for not keeping in touch," he muttered under his breath. "I really wanted to tell them about the diary and the woods too before school."  
  
"What diary?" Both Kalina and Joseph asked, momentarily distracted from poking each other over the mitts.  
  
Timothy tried hard not to panic and spoke quickly before he could think.  
  
"I didn't say diary, I said… er… hardly."  
  
"Hardly?" Both children blurted in union, suspiciously.  
  
He blanched at the illogical response, using impatience to mask his nervousness.  
  
"Yeah, hardly. Got a problem with that? Keep your noses in your own silly little talks."  
  
Kalina and Joseph begrudgingly left him alone, engaging each other again in another poke fight. Timothy tried to drum his fingers on his knees as he breathed a sigh of relief, but stopped once he realized the idiocy of doing so with mitts on his hands. If there was one thing Summerray didn't save him from in the woods, it was from poison ivy. He thought of her long dark hair and wild eyes. The way she moved fluidly about the bushes and bramble. Her high-pitched giggle rang through his memory, and he could just feel her callused fingers around his…   
  
Whoa, hold on a minute, what was he thinking! Timothy shook his head at feeling so reminisce about the Shaman girl who mocked him so. He didn't think about stuff like that! It sent shivers up his spine at the thought.  
  
Wanting to shake his memory of Summerray, Timothy clambered off of the couch, leaving Kalina and Joseph in a heated discussion over whether waves at the beach were created by magic or not. He was about to wander into the kitchen to see if he could be any help to his Godparents, even with the mitts on, but traces of their conversation slipped to his range of hearing-  
  
"…naked pictures of his girlfriend!" his Godmother's voice rang out.  
  
"Hey, George has a twisted sense of humor. So what if he got caught mooning the Japanese ambassador the last time dad had company over?"  
  
Timothy decided to head in the other direction.  
  
As much as he enjoyed his Godparents, he didn't particularly have fun on his own at their house, especially since after Joseph was born. While even still his Uncle Ron would hang with him, now that Aunt Hermione was pregnant again, he was distracted. This left Timothy to entertain himself in a house where the only thing that sparked his interest was Uncle Ron's Chudley Cannon memorabilia. But as he wandered to the room where Uncle Ron proudly displayed the various moving posters and miniature statuettes of the players, Timothy quickly grew bored again and meandered back into the living room where Kalina and Joseph had moved to taunt Aunt Hermione's ancient cat, Crookshanks.  
  
"Poke him again, see if he moves." Kalina muttered to Joseph, who obliged the request. The old ginger cat simply snored on, moving only like Jell-O as Joseph poked him.  
  
"Stupid cat."  
  
Timothy sighed and sank into a nearby armchair near some heartily glowing candles. He lethargically looked about, still hearing his Godparents clanging pots and his sister giggling with Joseph as Crookshanks made his earthly presence known only by burping. Timothy nearly had trouble keeping himself from giggling as well, restraining himself so by looking over at the coffee table next to the chair. Sprawled on top was an issue of The Daily Prophet. Half-interested and bored, he took it up and read the main headline:  
  
BRUTAL DEATHS DISCOVERED IN KENT  
  
Two cases of dark art related curse deaths were found in Kent yesterday, after an observant witch known as Marian Fluer investigated the absence of one of her employees at her potion shop. She discovered the bodies of Richard and Lauren Dine, apparently killed by excessive use of the Cruciatus curse, in their home not far from the shop. Mrs. Dine had been Fluer's employee for a number of years; the nature of the deaths was quite a shock. "Never in my life did I ever suspect Lauren or her husband to be connected to the dark arts, especially since I thought the practice and threat have been long gone since You-Know-Who was finally killed by the Potters." Said Fluer to The Daily Prophet.   
In a completely different side of the town, another couple was discovered dead by the same means in their home as well. Patrick and Nora Smith, the parents of the recently convicted teenager who was responsible for dark magic at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were in fact related to the Dines. Mr. Smith was Mrs. Dine's sister. It has come to the attention of the Prophet that one of the Malfoy family members, Draco Malfoy, is the one responsible for the deaths, as well as the many that have occurred this summer. Not much is known about him at this time, other than he was a strong supporter of You-Know-Who. Officials and aurors have been working on the case, and continue to do so, including the Potters.  
  
Timothy's jaw dropped as he read the article through. Now he remembered what his Great-uncle Us had said when he called his parents in Florida earlier that day. He said that there were more deaths, the Dines and the Smiths. If he thought correctly, the Dines were Luna's parents! Luna, a Hufflepuff from school, was involved in his trap from Malfoy. He scanned the article to see if there was any mention of her, of what had happened to her, but there was none. As he wondered anxiously about where Luna was at that moment, another sentence caught his eye. The Smiths had been killed too, and the article even mentioned that they were the parents of Taku Smith, a former bad-attitude Prefect who had been working with Draco Malfoy in plans to kill Timothy and his family last year. He had a twisted feeling he knew the reason why his parents were killed… but it wasn't fair that Luna's parents were.  
  
Timothy felt dread well up in him as he realized just how bad things had gotten since he'd left school. His parents seldom talked about their work, most likely so as not to worry him and his sister. He hadn't really looked at a newspaper until that moment and had always found listening to the daily news on the wizard radio boring, thus not hearing about anything either. It made him feel ignorant and guilty for stalling on his quest. If he was the world's only hope to destroy Malfoy, there would be a lot more deaths to come if he didn't get a move on. But how? This article only reminded him of what he had to do… it didn't help him. He was no closer to a clue than he was before he was reminded.  
  
"OK, kids!" called his Uncle Ron from the kitchen. "Dinner!"  
  
Kalina and Joseph bolted from the living room like hungry lions, but Timothy had to force himself to leave the room as the confused thoughts bounced around in his mind. It must of showed on his face, for his Godparents gave him concerned looks as he managed to sit down at the table.  
  
"What's eating you, Timothy? It should be you doing the eating now." Uncle Ron laughed at his own joke while Aunt Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
It took a few moments for Timothy to recall that his Godfather had even spoke before barking out a forced laugh, even though he didn't even remember hearing the "joke".  
  
"Really, Ron, eat before I hex your potatoes to run from your plate. Then we'll all laugh at you." Aunt Hermione fixed Uncle Ron with a narrowed stare, her wand pointing threateningly at him while Joseph giggled.  
  
"That's fine, then I'll be able to hex your roast beef to sing the national anthem!" He countered with a shrug. Another tiff erupted between the two adults, not in the least distracting Timothy from his automatic eating of food and thinking about the Potter family crest.  
  
Where could it be? Certainly not at my house, and my father's parents' house was destroyed. Is it even possible that the crest still exists? Well, yeah, if they told me to find it. But then where on Earth is it?! He debated with himself in his mind.  
  
"Ron…"  
  
"…and another thing, why can't a man get some scones or something like that anymore? Do I have to live off of health junk forever?"  
  
"Ron…" Timothy's Godmother had suddenly gone flush and her face was serious with surprise.  
  
"No, I'm speaking for every husband and guy out there who's forced to eat stuff that a guy would never dream of eating on his own! Look at me, do I look like I need a diet?!" His Godfather continued his patriotic speech, unaware of the persistent shaking of his arm by his wife.  
  
"RON! Shut up! It's time!"  
  
"You bet it's time… time for something sweet!" He rubbed his hands together and grabbed his wand.  
  
"No, you idiot! It's time! I'm in labor!" Aunt Hermione raged at him.  
  
Everyone fell completely silent as Uncle Ron paled. Finally he shook himself into a panic.  
  
"Well why didn't you say so?!"  
  
If it weren't for the fact that she was in labor, Timothy's Godmother most likely would have really hexed his Godfather to pieces by the glare she gave him. But Uncle Ron didn't notice. He had practically flown out of the kitchen and was back a moment later with a suitcase. Before Aunt Hermione could so much as open her mouth, Uncle Ron muttered a lighting spell and picked her up without so much as a grunt. Timothy, as well as his sister and Joseph, watched the stunt with wide eyes and gaping mouths.  
  
"Ron…"  
  
"Don't worry, I'll have you at the hospital pronto!"  
  
"Ron…"  
  
Sitting stock still in their seats, Timothy, Kalina, and Joseph watched as Uncle Ron carried her out of the kitchen and heard them go toward the living room. No one said a word, still as statues, until they heard them returning.  
  
"Kids! Oh no, I didn't think of this…" As Uncle Ron pondered, Aunt Hermione rolled her eyes again.  
  
"Let's get your mother."  
  
"Right!"  
  
He ran out of the room again. Timothy could only drop his fork.  
  
Not more than 1 minute later, Molly Weasley was bidding goodbye to the expectant couple as she held Joseph's hand and shielded Timothy and Kalina with her other. Timothy sighed as things settled down; Mrs. Weasley was like another grandmother to him. However, as she got them all cookies and milk, the subtle evening just made Timothy worry about the crest even more.  
  
He decided to sleep on the couch in the living room, as he and his sister were spending the night. Their parents were still at work, and had called to ask if they could sleep over. Mrs. Weasley had no objection, and set up the younger children in the master bedroom together if they needed her. Timothy was old enough… and troubled enough… to want to sleep on the couch. It was there that he could muse on his problems.  
  
The candles went out and Timothy closed his eyes, moonlight pouring in through a bay window. If he hadn't of been so exhausted from that day, Timothy might have been awake long enough to see a pair of glittering eyes peering through that same window. Eyes that were fixed dangerously on him…  
  
A/N: If it was short, forgive me. I felt I needed to end this chapter and move on; my greatest fear is dragging, like I said. Not too many reviewed the last chapter, and I'm not sure if that was because of the new system, if people just didn't get the authoralert, or you just didn't like the chapter! PLEASE review, it's important to me, really. I'll stop begging, 'cause I know how annoying that is ::shy laugh:: Because of this chaptered system, there could very well be chapter 4 after this if you're reading this after 2/16/01, so you can review the next one ::smiles:: Otherwise, review now!  
  
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What's next? Well... Timothy goes to get his school things and meets up with his buds from school... where he gets some disturbing news that he's not sure if he should take it as a clue to his quest- or a threat to his life. DUN DUN DUNNNN!  
  
Review! Please?  
  
~OrcaPotter 


	4. John's Prediction

A/N: Chapter four, here at last. Early, and that's how we like it! Everyday, the plot grows in my head, many thanks to my American Govt. and Economics classes... oh and physics as well! The future of this story has changed in my mind- for the better. I think you'll enjoy it and it will benefit Timothy's Story greatly, I feel. So read this chapter, and do REVIEW! For the love of everything fruity, REVIEW! It's gosh darn important to what you read, to the story, to me.... REVIEW! OK, on to the chapter!  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Four: John's Prediction  
  
  
It was dark and damp within the confines of the earthen room. Not even the fire burning with straining effort in the gloom permeated the pall of evil darkness. A large woven rug covered the stone floor underneath a solitary armchair beside a small coffee table. Next to a mug of untouched tea was a crumpled and ink-smeared newspaper, the letters of the headline gleaming from the light of the fire, enhancing the message's sober tone.  
  
BRUTAL DEATHS DISCOVERED IN KENT  
  
A pale, blonde figure chuckled silently in the armchair. There was a sudden rap at the huge oak double-doors behind him.  
  
"I said I was not to be disturbed!" He barked over his shoulder, fingering the wand at his side.  
  
One of the doors swung open with a slight creak, and a dark robed man peered inside fearfully.  
  
"S-sorry, my lord, but… you have a visitor."  
  
The silence that followed nearly made the man wet himself.  
  
"I said I was not to be disturbed." The figure finally hissed.  
  
"My lord, s-s-she insisted!"  
  
Another pause.  
  
"She?"  
  
"Y-yes, my lord."  
  
"Send her in."  
  
The door swung open completely with another loud creak, and the sound of heels clicked slowly into the room. Never once did the figure in the armchair make any move to face his visitor. When the patter of her heels ceased on the rug just behind his chair, the only sounds heard was the crackling and popping of the fire.  
  
"Well?" He broke the silence. "You intrude upon me, state your reason."  
  
"I come to speak to a Draco Malfoy, not a chair." Came the woman's reply, her voice thick with a Russian accent.  
  
"Oh?" he nearly laughed at the woman's boldness. "Tell me why you're here and perhaps you may speak with him."  
  
"Maybe I'm just wasting my time, it's no wonder you haven't caught your enemy yet, you're too busy being full of yourself." She turned on her heels to leave, but he caught her by the elbow.  
  
"Who are you?" Malfoy sneered, but his face fell as the woman turned to face him. She was taller than him, more so on heels, and her hair was long and silky smooth. Her body was shaped like an art form, the long red dress hugging her features like a glove. Almond shaped eyes bore into his with a visible fire that glittered from the feeble light in the room.  
  
"Veronica Murtov."  
  
"What do you want?" Malfoy nearly whispered, taken aback by her beauty.  
  
"It's not a matter of what I want, it's what you want." Her expression was dark and cold.  
  
"And what would that be?" Malfoy fingered the long scar that distorted his face absentmindedly.  
  
Veronica shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her arms.  
  
"You know very well what it is."  
  
Malfoy considered her a moment, narrowing his eyes.  
  
"What do you know about what I want?"  
  
Veronica smiled sadistically.  
  
"I know where to find them."  
  
Malfoy held himself back as Veronica walked around him slowly and sat in his chair. She crossed her legs and took up the untouched mug of tea and sipped it. Malfoy flexed his fingers as he debated in his mind how to handle this woman… this very… beautiful and dangerous woman. He regarded her as businesslike as he could… however feeling his insides melt at the very sight of her.  
  
"And what does this all matter to you? He asked calmly.  
  
She didn't answer right away, continuing to sip at the tea and glance over the paper that lay on the table.  
  
"Been busy, I see… however, you don't act like it. Very much like the wizard before you."  
  
"Unlike my old master, I get the job done." Malfoy snarled.  
  
"And yet you still haven't destroyed the Potters, have you?" Veronica looked up at him with casual consideration.  
  
He could only look away as she spread a wide knowing smile across her face.  
  
"As much as you desire not to be like your fallen master, you're going about this matter in the same way he did. No… no, I have a better way." She said to him smoothly.  
  
Malfoy looked back at her slowly.  
  
"And what would that be?"  
  
"I shall tell you… but only if my demands are met."  
  
"Ah, and here's the point. What is it that you want?" Malfoy sneered, crossing his arms. Veronica motioned for him to lean close to her, and he did so, feeling heat rush to his cheeks as he breathed in her sweet perfume. She said something in his ear, and the smile that broke his face was the largest ever seen on him.  
  
"Get me the Potters… and you shall have what you wish." He said.  
  
Veronica laughed and her face crinkled in evil lust.  
  
"All in good time, my lord… all in good time…"  
****  
  
When the sun rose the next morning, Timothy awoke with his legs all cramped. He was about to stretch out when he realized that he was not lying against the couch… but on top of someone.  
  
"Yaugh!" Timothy jumped.  
  
That someone was his mother, who woke up with a start at his outburst.  
  
"Oh, Timothy! I'm sorry, did I startle you?" She blinked her blue eyes furiously to get the sleep out of them.  
  
"When did you get here?" Timothy asked, putting his hand over his heart as he calmed himself.  
  
"I didn't get here 'till late, and Molly wouldn't let me leave. So, I slept on the couch here with you, if you don't mind." She ran a hand through her long brown hair, looking at him apologetically.  
  
Timothy blushed and felt badly for snapping at his mother; he ran his hand through his own hair and shuffled his feet.  
  
"Of course not, mum. Sorry."  
  
She smiled and pulled him into a long hug. He felt happy and safe in her arms and it wasn't until she finally let him go that he realized another thing.  
  
"Where's dad?"  
  
"Still at work," she sighed. "He sent me home to get you and your sister, but you can see what happened. I can only imagine the damage that Jeff has done, since I never got back to the house."  
  
"So you've heard about Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione?" Timothy asked, wanting to change the subject.  
  
"Oh yes, Aunt Hermione still hasn't had them yet, though. I'm sure Uncle Ron will call when she does, no doubt. However, today, I wanted to get your school things while I still can. Uh, work is going to claim me a little more… your father can't continue like he has on his own anymore."  
  
Timothy nodded, and his heart sank to think that his parents would be away from him even more. It just reinforced the thought of doing his own job… finding the crest. He clambered off the couch and made to go to the bathroom, but his mother stopped him.  
  
"Wait a second, Timothy… I need to talk to you."  
  
He turned to look at her and she had a very serious expression on her face.  
  
"I'd like to thank you… and apologize for what happened in the woods."  
  
"Thank me?" Timothy asked, puzzled.  
  
"I hadn't gone in those woods since I first left Florida to come here. It was when my brother, your uncle, moved here that I was terribly upset and ran into those woods to find Moonfoot. When I needed my only friend… he didn't come, and it broke my heart. But Moonfoot, like his people, know a lot more about one's destiny than any wizard or witch could ever hope to know. Perhaps he was right… if he had come to me I would not have left Florida. And I needed to... and I did. He had told me at the time, but I was so immature and naïve it never occurred to me until yesterday. If you had not gone into the woods, I probably would never have gone back. You gave me my friend back, and now my heart feels less sadness."  
  
Timothy looked at her and felt himself blush. He could feel his chest surge with satisfaction that he had at least accomplished what he was trying to do at the time… help his mother. And he did.  
  
She gave him a kiss on his forehead, and gently pushed him off to wash up. As he nearly skipped out of the living room, Timothy felt lighter than air.  
  
  
By that afternoon, Timothy was walking beside his mother and sister down Diagon Alley. He could never remember seeing the cobblestone street looking so bare; there was hardly anyone traveling along the heavily used London location. His mother was holding Kalina's hand tightly, and while his sister apparently could not sense the feeling his mother was giving off, he could. The sight of the place looking so vacated seemed to unnerve her and make her eyes more alert.  
  
"Mum, why aren't there many people here today?" Kalina asked Timothy's question. He had to remind himself of his sister being more aware of things than a normal six-year-old would.  
  
"Just not a busy day today, sweetheart. It's a weekday." Their mother smiled at them both, but Timothy could see the worry in her eyes.  
  
They stopped at Gringotts and withdrew some money. Kalina was always skittish around the goblins, and clung to either Timothy or their mother tightly while they were in the bank until they left. Checking his list, Timothy directed his mother and sister to the shops where he needed to go, getting refills on potion ingredients and more parchment and quills. He had only a moment to marvel at the Quidditch supply shop before his mother pulled him away. He could never understand that if she was just as good a Quidditch player as his father, why she wouldn't let him have a little fun in the shop without him. Instead, she steered him and his sister toward the bookshop.  
  
"We don't have much time, today, that's why sweetheart." His mother said, as he asked why they couldn't spend a minute with the Quidditch supplies. He was about to moan protest when someone shouted from across the street.  
  
"TIMOTHY! Hey, Timothy! Over here!"  
  
Darian came bounding across the street, pulling along side him the tall and gangly form of John Stanton.  
  
"Darian! John!" Timothy cried, jogging from his family over to his friends. They embraced each other quickly and surveyed one another. Timothy couldn't help noticing that John looked more lethargic than usual.  
  
"What's up, John?" he asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Oh… well, the usual. If you get my meaning." John shrugged it off with a small smile.  
  
"I thought you were in Florida for the week, what are you doing here?" Darian blurted out before Timothy could question John further.  
  
"Came back yesterday; Mum and dad got called back to work."  
  
"Oh, bummer." Darian shrugged, but he looked excited to see him. "Well… I found 'ol Too Tall here a little while ago getting our stuff for school. Just got done lecturing him for not keeping in touch."  
  
"Yeah, John, what goes on?" Timothy asked.  
  
"Just… just… can we just talk about this later? Like, at school maybe? My parents are nearby, if you know what I mean." John looked jumpy as he eyed Timothy's mother and sister, and at his desperate look Timothy and Darian nodded in agreement.  
  
"Hey, boys." Timothy's mother smiled at them as she came over.  
  
"Hello, Mrs. Potter." Both Darian and John replied politely.  
  
"Here for your school supplies?"  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
"Well then, why don't you two tag along? Timothy just has his books left to get." She motioned her head at Timothy and took up Kalina's arm as she walked into the shop. Timothy looked at his friends and soon followed, Darian and John close behind.  
  
The bookstore was cluttered with every book for every subject known to the magical world. Each shelf held titles Timothy could only come up with in his imagination: Conversing With Your Shrubbery, How to Play Poker With Your Shadow, and The Naked Beauty of Dragons were just a few of the names Timothy could find among the hundreds of books.  
  
"Look at this!" Darian whispered over to Timothy and John, who had been looking at a map of Atlantis. "Check this title out, Medieval Magic in the Nude. Can you believe that? Naked knights?"  
  
"Wild," Timothy shook his head and brushed past John who was looking at the book Darian was putting back on the shelf with indifference. "Naked knights. Now that's something I have yet to see."  
  
"Not like you'd ever want to," Darian laughed, looking over at a shelf filled with Quidditch books. "Are you going to try out for the Quidditch team this year, Timothy?"  
  
"What a question to ask!" Timothy laughed, coming over to look with him. "Of course, dummy!"  
  
"Have you thought about how playing that sport would compromise your homework, Timothy?" John asked somewhat plaintively.  
  
Timothy raised his eyebrows at him and Darian was practically sick with disgust at the words.  
  
"John, you know… you're still a wuss. Compromise his homework! I should slap you cross the face with my wand for such an excuse. Since when did that bother you? You were right by our side when we tried out for last year's team, no problem. Why is homework an issue all of a sudden?"  
  
"Darian, he just said…" Timothy started in John's defense, but John just merely shrugged and wandered off.  
  
"Darian, you big git, lay off him OK? You know how tuff it is at home for John… and he does have a point." Timothy scolded him.  
  
"Hey, are you gonna put off the team to do homework?" Darian looked at him, and nodded when he didn't reply. "Thought so."  
  
"He was just saying…" Timothy muttered.  
  
"He's always 'just saying'. Let him keep 'just saying' and he'll whine and nag the whole time. He knows we're tight, he won't think anything of it. For crying out loud, Timothy, we've known each other for nearly a year now… you should know." Darian went off down the isle with his hands in his pockets, and Timothy left him be, going to look for John. Before he could, his mother had him by his shoulder.  
  
"Time to go Timothy, say goodbye to your friends for now." She smiled wearily at him, pulling Kalina along side her, and walked out of the shop with her other hand filled with purchases. Timothy managed to wave Darian over, but he couldn't see John. They searched the shop before giving up and walking outside, only to find him standing near the door.  
  
"There you are!" Timothy put his hands on his hips. "We were looking all over for you."  
  
"Sorry, just stepped out for a moment." John tried to smile, but it faltered. Timothy glared over at Darian, who looked sheepish.  
  
"Uh, hey man, sorry about snapping at you back there. You know I'm just playing around with you, right?"  
  
John looked at him as if he just noticed he was there.  
  
"What? Oh, no, don't worry. No problem… I know you. I just… I just needed some fresh air, I think."  
  
"Well guys, I gotta go. I'll see ya at Kings Cross on the first, alright?" Timothy waved and made to move off to his mother and sister before John caught his arm roughly.  
  
"Did you see that?" He hissed at him and Darian, looking off down the empty street.  
  
"See what?" Timothy and Darian asked in bewildered union.  
  
"That… that black… thing. You didn't see it?" John looked at them both as if they were blind.  
  
"Noooo…" Darian shook his head slowly, looking at John as if he had just lost his last marble. "What black thing?"  
  
"I… maybe, I… you didn't see it Timothy?" John turned to him desperately.  
  
"No, John, I didn't see anything. What was it?" Timothy looked off in the direction that John was now searching.  
  
"It was… it was long and black… just like in my…" he trailed off.  
  
"In your what?" Timothy asked him, but his mother called for him a little more severely and he reluctantly pulled his arm away.  
  
"Sorry, John, but I didn't see anything. I need to go, but write me, OK? I'll see you both on the Hogwarts Express!" He jogged to catch up with his mother and sister, looking back over his shoulder to see Darian leaving as well. John just stood in his spot, staring out down the street at nothing- or what looked like nothing to Timothy. It was very possible that John did see something, him being an empath and all. Although John had told him before the end of the last school year that he wasn't going to use his powers unless he had to, did empaths see things normal people didn't?   
  
"What was wrong with John, Timothy? He didn't look so good." His mother shook Timothy out of his reverie.  
  
"Oh… uh… I dunno." He shrugged it off and walked ahead of them, glancing down at Kalina who was looking at him strangely. When her stare seemed to bore into his eyes with curiosity, he looked away, turning his mind back onto John.  
  
Why do I have a feeling John knows something I don't? He thought to himself. Much to his dismay, it would be more than three weeks before he found out.  
  
  
Never had time gone by slower. After the news that his Godmother had the twins, a boy and a girl, things were silent. Timothy was so preoccupied with so many conflicting thoughts that all he managed to do was sit on his bed and stare at his over-polished broomstick. Kalina, who had convinced their father when he finally returned home for more than an hour at one time to turn Jeff back to normal, spent most of the time in her room teaching Jeff the names of all of her stuffed animals. Timothy had to come in and save him from the torture, but his yellow friend did nothing but reinforce Timothy's worries with his interrogation.  
  
"I can't understand why you can't tell me what's really bothering you." Jeff crawled into his lap.  
  
"Nothing… nothing to worry about, just anxious for school, that's all." Timothy tried to brush it off, but Jeff persisted.  
  
"Wild One, you're more nervous now than you were last year. C'mon, I thought we could tell each other anything."  
  
It pained Timothy to keep it from him, about the family crest, but he believed the shadows that spoke to him that no one would believe him if he told. Jeff would just pester him about the crest being ridiculous and go tell his parents.  
  
"Well, I am going to go to Hogwarts with you. I'm not going to lay off ya until you tell me." Jeff polished his claws against his scales.  
  
"Jeff…" Timothy started.  
  
"No… no arguing. You're parents are never home, you're grandmother from Florida is watching you and the runt, I'm always forgotten… there's no way I'm gonna let you go without me!"  
  
"Mum will have to shrink you again," Timothy finally said. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to stay with Whisper."  
  
Jeff shuddered.  
  
"Anything to stay away from her!"  
  
  
It was a big relief when the first of September finally arrived. Timothy was packed and ready by the time the grandfather clock chimed ten. His parents were determined to see him off to Hogwarts, and so Timothy and his family were soon standing in front of the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 & ¾. However, while the second go-around at leaving his family should have been easier… it was harder with the vibes he got off of his parents.  
  
"Stay as close to the castle as you can, and never go outside alone." His mother fussed over his hair while his father loaded his trunk. Timothy held Windstone's cage close to him, then handed the owl to his father to load as well. Kalina pulled him down to her level.  
  
"Write me, OK? I'll be by myself, with Jeff gone. Grand's great, but it won't be the same. You know mum and dad won't be home a lot." She whispered as coherently as she could above the noise of the station.  
  
Timothy put on his most reassuring smile.  
  
"Don't worry, Kalina, you'll be fine. I'll send Windstone to ya and tell ya about how much trouble Jeff's gotten into."  
  
"I heard that!" Came a small and muffled voice from his jean pocket.  
  
"Bye Jeff!" Kalina cried just as their mother pulled her away to give Timothy one last hug.  
  
"This time, I want a letter every week, you hear me? If anything, and I mean anything goes bad I want Windstone home immediately with the news,"  
  
"Yes, mum." Timothy hugged her back.  
  
"I love you, sweetheart. Behave yourself!" She gave him a gentle push toward his father, and he hugged him a bit longer.  
  
"You have the cloak?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"The map too?"  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
"Remember what your mother said, use your common sense if you ever come to need those things. You realize how serious the situation is these days, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, dad." Timothy replied solemnly. His hand absentmindedly went to his other jean pocket, where a book-shaped bulge reassured him that his uncle's diary was safe. It would be his dead uncle that would give him comfort for the task that Timothy had to accomplish. The diary helped him with his mother… could he help him find the Potter family crest?  
  
"I love you, son. Be careful." His father guided him onto the train just as it began to leave, and Timothy waved goodbye to his family, who looked even more sullen than the last year.  
  
"Timothy! There you are! We thought you missed the train!"  
  
Timothy was grabbed by the shoulders and wheeled around to face Darian, elated to see him.  
  
"Hey Darian. No, just saying goodbye, that's all." He followed him into the compartment where John was waiting. John looked even sicklier than he did last year when they first met, and Timothy looked questioningly at Darian who just shrugged back.  
  
"Oh, Timothy! Hey." John smiled at him as he sat down next to Darian.  
  
"Are you alright, John?" Timothy asked him carefully, pulling Jeff out of his pocket and placing him on his shoulder. Jeff yawned and curled up in a ball, falling asleep.  
  
"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah… yeah, no problem." John's smile became pained, and he looked away at Timothy and Darian's disbelieving expressions.  
  
"C'mon man, fess up. We know when you're upset… and you obviously are." Darian crossed his arms and looked at him sternly.  
  
Unlike Darian, Timothy knew when to stop pressuring people to tell something they weren't ready to share. The vibe he was getting from John was alarming from such a normally passive person, and Timothy nudged Darian's arm in warning to stop. However, Darian was not the type of person to let up so easily.  
  
"John just tell us!" he cried.  
  
"Would you just shut up?!" John cracked, his face livid at Darian. Darian immediately sank in his seat, looking down at the floor in shock at his outburst. Timothy merely looked at them both timidly, and they said nothing more until the scarlet colored train long rolled out of London. It was Darian who broke the silence first, speaking to Timothy.  
  
"You never told us about Florida, how'd it go?"  
  
Remembering the fact that he never sent the letters he wrote, Timothy happily told the whole story about the woods, his mother, the Shaman people, Summerray, and the diary.  
  
"I brought it with me too," he said as he pulled it out of his jean pocket. "I thought maybe it could help…" he stopped in mid-sentence abruptly, remembering that he wasn't to tell anyone about the crest.  
  
"Help with what? Homework?" Darian asked, puzzled.  
  
John, the whole while, simply stared at them both with a distant expression. Although, at Timothy's last words, he raised his eyebrows in curious alarm.  
  
"Er… what I mean is, er… it could give me advice on stuff. You know… uncle-nephew sort of stuff." Timothy tried hard to find something else to say.  
  
"Uncle-nephew sort of stuff? What kind of sort of stuff?" Darian was completely clueless.  
  
Jeff stirred awake and started grumbling at Darian, all while Timothy searched his mind for an excuse. Suddenly, John spoke for the first time since they left London.  
  
"Darian? Isn't that the snack-cart witch out in the isle outside?" He pointed to the door window where, sure enough, the old witch was pushing the snack cart down the isle. Darian immediately jumped to his feet, feeling his pocket for sickles.  
  
"Want anything? I'm gonna get me some chocolate frogs!" Without an answer, he flung the door open and jumped at the witch. Timothy shoved Jeff back in his pocket just in case she saw, looking appreciatively at John.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"I know how it feels to be pressured into telling something you don't want to tell." John said softly, looking out the window.  
  
"I'm sorry," Timothy felt whole-heartedly ashamed. "It's your family, isn't it?"  
  
John didn't answer, but looked back at him. He wasn't sure, but Timothy thought he saw John shake his head slightly. When John looked back out the window, Timothy looked over toward the door where Darian was pocketing candies and handing over sickles and knuts to the witch. Then suddenly, someone brushed past the compartment that looked very familiar.  
  
"Luna?" Timothy whispered in surprise.  
  
Without realizing it, he had jumped to his feet and found himself rushing out into the isle, bumping into Darian who was too busy with the candy to notice. Far down the train he could see a small retreating girl with shoulder length brown hair moving quickly away from him. He started to follow, catching up about halfway, when someone stepped out abruptly into his path.  
  
"Well look, it's the famous Potter. Hey, Sean! Come look! It's the boy wonder come to grace the rest of the train with his divine presence." It was Carla Haughton, the sneering tall blonde Slytherin blocking his path and view of Luna. Her brother Sean, sniveling and subservient to his menacing twin, came skulking out the compartment Carla had jumped out of. While he was nearly more than an inch taller than she was, Sean acted two feet tall. His shaggy dirty blonde hair hung over his subdued eyes, looking at him with no interest.  
  
"So it is." He crossed his arms.  
  
Timothy scowled at them both, standing on his toes to see over their shoulders at Luna… but she was already long gone. He looked at them angrily.  
  
"Move out of the way, Haughton."  
  
"Move out of the way?" Carla shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her own arms. "Why, is that how a famous celebrity asks one of us common folk to step aside? Not good for your image, is it? Or is your mummy and daddy the same way?"  
  
Timothy had become so exasperated that he was halfway pulling out his wand to hex her and Sean's snickering form before John suddenly appeared at his side and stopped him.  
  
"Save you energy, Timothy. No need to waste it on this Slytherin scum." He said bitterly, holding Timothy's wand hand gently and looking at Carla.  
  
"Why, if it isn't poor little John Stanton! My, aren't you brave to come and save the almighty Timothy Potter!" Carla put on mock surprise, elbowing her brother harshly to pay attention- for he was cracking his knuckles and staring at the ceiling.  
  
"If we just ignore her, she'll eventually stop. C'mon." Without looking back at Carla and Sean, John pulled Timothy back into their compartment and shut the door behind them. Darian was happily sitting in his seat with his chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Jeff suddenly jumped out of Timothy's pocket, coughing up lint.   
  
"If I could've risked it, I was ready to jump out and fry her, Timothy!" he called up to him, scrambling up to his shoulder.  
  
"Thanks for the thought, Jeff. I'm glad you didn't though. She's the last person I want to see you." He sighed, sitting down next to Darian. "Thanks for saving me back there, John."  
  
He shrugged, and went to look out the window again.  
  
Hours went by as the sun began to go down. Timothy mainly kept conversation with Darian, while John observed in silence. They had a peculiar relationship, and Timothy was contemplating John's behavior when a voice spoke magically out loud throughout the train.  
  
"We will be arriving at Hogsmeade Station in approximately five minutes. Please gather your personal belongings and be dressed in your uniform. Thank you."  
  
"I need an owl," Darian moaned as they got out their trunks and put on their school robes and hats. "Maybe for Christmas."  
  
Windstone hooted greetings at Timothy as he sat him down on the seat. Jeff scowled at him from Timothy's shoulder, dreading the fact that he would be spending more time in his pocket.  
  
Once dressed and ready, the train now at a full stop with kids streaming out of compartments, the three friends filed out into the isle. Jeff kept wiggling in his pocket, and Timothy had to pat him warningly three times before he settled. In his other pocket, he checked to make sure the diary was safely tucked inside.  
  
"First years this way! Welcome to Hogwarts, dears! All first years with me! Everyone else to the coaches! Come on, move along there young'uns. First years to the boats!"  
  
The huge form of Echolocata Whisper, a Timberlan giant from North America, could be heard above the excited chatter of all the students as they got off the train. She winked at Timothy when their eyes met, and pointed them over to a line of waiting coaches where all the other older students were heading. John and Darian were close at his side as they chose an unoccupied coach and got inside. Only a moment went by before Bran Acott, another second year Gryffindor they knew, climbed in with them.  
  
"Hey guys! How was your summer?" he asked them merrily as the door swung shut. The coach magically rocked to life and began to move up the road toward the castle that was Hogwarts.  
  
They exchanged stories as they traveled the short distance to the huge oak front doors. When the coach came to a halt, they climbed out one by one and filed up the stone steps and into the castle.  
  
"It feels different getting into the castle this way," Darian commented as they moved into the Great Hall. "Last year we went underground. It will be interesting to see the first years and the sorting now."  
  
They all sat down at the Gryffindor table as they continued to observe everything. Timothy couldn't help but feel more a part of the school now that he was older and situated with everything. He looked up at the professor's table where all the professors were settling in. The head of Gryffindor house, Professor Miller, was joking around with Professor Visser. It was obviously funny to Miller, but the potions professor simply blinked at him. Smirking at them both was Professor Jackson, teacher of History of Magic and head of Slytherin. Down the table sat Professor Zan, the herbology teacher, who was looking positively bored. The astrology teacher, Timothy recognized by sight and word of mouth, was Professor Krishna. She was trying to engage Zan in conversation, but the strict Asian man kept his gaze forward and mouth shut. Professor Mali, the flying coach and Quidditch referee, appeared to be flirting with Professor Lupin. Timothy smiled; Professor Lupin was a real close friend of his family, and when not at school he called him "Uncle Lupin". Lupin laughed at something Mali said, just before the headmaster walked in front of him to sit down.  
  
The entire hall quieted as Professor Dumbledore sat down with a weary smile. Timothy had a vague sense that he knew the reason for his apparent fatigue. He took a quick glance at his friends- Darian was staring hungrily at his plate, but John was looking at Timothy instead. The look on his face was that of worry, but before Timothy could question him, Dumbledore had stood up to direct everybody's attention.  
  
"The sorting ceremony will now commence!" he said, issuing for the doors to the side to open. They did so, and leading a line of wide-eyed and petrified first years was Professor Slimak, deputy headmistress, head of Hufflepuff, and professor of charms. She lined them up in front of the professors' table and unrolled a long piece of parchment. The old Sorting Hat was placed on a stool, and one by one, Professor Slimak called names and each first year became sorted.  
  
Gryffindor had received five new students, and Timothy clapped enthusiastically along with the rest of his table as they sat down. When all was settled, Professor Dumbledore called for attention again.  
  
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he smiled at each table. "It's truly wonderful to see familiar faces and new ones as well. I hope this will be a pleasant, productive, and safe year for us all. Let us all eat to our health and our happiness!"  
  
At a flourish of his hand, the plates and goblets on the tables filled magically with every food imaginable. Darian let out a primeval grunt and leapt at the food, piling his plate. Timothy began to serve himself eagerly too, but at a sideways glance at John, he noticed he wasn't moving an inch.  
  
"Don't tell me you're not hungry," he called over to him as he placed mashed potatoes on his plate. "You didn't eat anything on the way here!"  
  
John simply stared at the table with a distant look.  
  
"Timothy?" he could barely be heard over the din of the voices in the hall.  
  
"Yeah?" Timothy replied, starting to butter a roll.  
  
"I need to tell you something." His voice was serious.  
  
"Now?"  
  
John stood up and grabbed Timothy's shoulder, pulling him off of the bench. Still holding his half-buttered roll, Timothy followed John out of the Great Hall while Darian attacked his meal without noticing. John checked the corridor to see if it was empty and pulled Timothy into a alcove near the main staircase. Half of his face was hidden in shadow, making his serious look even more disturbing.  
  
"I wasn't going to tell you… I didn't think it mattered…" he started.  
  
"What? What is it?" Timothy completely forgot about the roll, staring intently at John. John shook his head desperately.  
  
"But it's gone on too long now… it must be real, it's bothering me too much."  
  
"John, please tell me…" Timothy tried hard to contain his impatience.  
  
"I'm sorry, Timothy. You need to know- it apparently concerns you." John ran his hands through his neatly bowl-cut dirty blonde hair.  
  
"Concerns me? John, does this have anything to do with you…" he checked the corridor again to see if anyone was listening. "Being an empath?"  
  
John nodded slowly and looked piercingly at Timothy with a mixture of pity and fear.  
  
"Like I promised, I don't use my abilities without permission. However, over the summer, I've been having visions."  
  
"Visions?" Timothy gasped.  
  
"Of you. And I don't know why! I have a feeling it has something to do with whatever it is that's bothering you, Timothy."  
  
"Of me? What did you see?" Timothy became breathless, worried now that John reluctantly wandered into his mind and knows all about the crest. His jean pocket began to wiggle, and he remembered that Jeff was inside. He put his hand over the pocket to keep him from hearing anything more, and lowered his voice to a bare whisper. "What do you know?"  
  
"About what's troubling you? Nothing. But, what I saw could have some significance… and it's not good." John paused, reluctant to move on, but at Timothy's intent gaze he sighed and nodded.  
  
"What I keep seeing is this black snake, very long and skinny. Everywhere I look, the black snake is there in this vision. Then, I see a powerful looking man with red hair and a beard, holding this long sword. He has this real deep, menacing laugh, and he points the sword at me when it begins this low hum. Finally, you suddenly appear… but then the snake suddenly jumps at you, and in a flash of light you are gone. That's when it ends."  
  
Timothy could only gape at him, the silence that fell allowed the chatter in the Great Hall to be heard quite distinctly.  
  
"I've been having this vision all summer, and that's the reason why I've been they way I have. Never have I had a vision like this- so intense and disturbing. At Diagon Alley, when you were leaving, it was the black snake I thought I saw." John said.  
  
"What does it all mean?" Timothy whispered.  
  
John shrugged helplessly.  
  
"I don't know. But, just be careful. Visions are full of symbolism, so if you see anything that would relate to those things, tell the headmaster or tell your parents as soon as you can."  
  
They didn't say anything for a few minutes, but finally they sighed together and made to move out when Timothy nearly bumped into someone.  
  
"Quite an unusual place to talk during the Start-of-Term feast, isn't it boys?"  
  
The divination professor, Professor Peacecraft, was smiling down at their startled faces. She was the youngest of all the professors, with shiny blonde hair and a warm smile. The look in her deep eyes made her look wise beyond the oldest of intelligent wizards. She placed a comforting hand on Timothy's shoulder and winked. Then she looked intently at John, and Timothy could recognize the familiar stare of wordless conversation. His parents, being Etam Luoses, did it often. Naturally, a more real mental conversation could take place between two empaths.  
  
Finally, with a last smile, Professor Peacecraft shepherded them out in the corridor, where they could see that the feast had ended and students were flowing out of the Great Hall and to the directions of where their houses was located.  
  
"Get some sleep boys, you'll need to be rested." She bid them goodnight and left them to follow the other Gryffindors up the staircase toward Gryffindor tower.  
  
As Timothy silently followed John with the others, he could have sworn he saw Luna walking with the other Hufflepuffs toward their house. He was about to call out to her, before she disappeared. Suddenly too tired to be disappointed, Timothy climbed the steps and fell back in line into the Gryffindor common room. Darian, Bran, and the others in his dorm were already climbing into bed when he got there. John stole glances at him every other minute as he got into his pajamas and into bed himself. When Timothy did so as the lights went out, the moonlight hitting the window caught his eye. If must have been his imagination… it must have been the fact that he was so tired… but as Timothy's eyes slid shut, he thought he saw a coiled black mass sitting on the windowsill. A coiled black mass… with glittering eyes.  
  
  
A/N: Has it gotten your attention yet? I'm starting to get the hand at this mystery thing, heheh. What do you think? You're thoughts are important to me you know, more than reason enough to REVIEW! So, to keep you on your toes- what's up with these glittering eyes? Will Timothy talk to Luna at all? What does John's vision mean? Can Jeff find a better way to travel with Timothy? Does chapter five hold the answers? Perhaps, you've gotta read it to find out! 2/23/01, it will be out by.  
  
Have questions? Want to know more facts? My website's got it all!  
HTTP://WWW.THEWORLDOFRENEEPOTTER.DISNEYFANSITES.COM  
Updated nearly daily, and now with a long list of books for you to read on the "What to read after HP" page under the featured books.  
  
Well, REVIEW! And one more thing before I move on- is it not rediculous that my Economics/American Govt. teacher took off TEN POINTS because I went 17 SECONDS over the max. time for my oral report on George Washington Carver?! ::screams and procedes to burn text books in retaliation:: Ok, on to chapter five... you review... PLEASE?! Thanks you ever so mucho.  
  
~OrcaPotter 


	5. Jeff Finds a Way

A/N: Whoa, check it out! It's early! Thank God for three day weekends and a clear, creative mind. And while this chapter may be shorter than the others, there is definate "lightness" to it. Honestly, though, this series is and will continue to be, dark. But don't fret, there is comic relief, or at least I hope so. I'm quite satisfied with this chapter, more so than I expected to be, so please give me your insight and review! It's YOUR thoughts that count. OK then, read on, and don't forget to review!  
  
  
  
Chapter Five: Jeff Finds a Way  
  
Getting back into the routine of school is always hard the first day. While Timothy welcomed the distraction from all of his troubles, Darian couldn't contain his feelings at all for the entire morning:  
  
"I'm tired."  
  
"I'm hungry."  
  
"My feet hurt."  
  
"Homework? On the first day? I don't want to!"  
  
The complaints went on and on. Timothy eventually tuned him out, only now he was annoyed by John's complete silence and the constant kicking by Jeff in his pocket under his robes. At one point in charms, Professor Slimak noticed Timothy telling his pocket to shut up.  
  
"Timothy? Why are you talking to your pants?" she inquired suspiciously from the front of the classroom, so that the whole class could hear.  
  
He immediately went a bright shade of red as he tried desperately to come up with an excuse; everyone began to giggle.  
  
"Er… uh… ermm, well I was…"  
  
"No more talking, Mr. Potter, and that includes your pants too." She shook her wand at him, while the entire class erupted into gales of laughter. Timothy could feel himself sinking into a puddle in his chair, all while John hid the first smile visible since over the summer behind his hands and Darian looked about ready to implode from containing his own guffaws. Timothy glared at them while giving his pocket a concealed whack.  
  
"Hey!" shouted Jeff from inside. It was a good thing people were still laughing, otherwise he would have been heard.  
  
  
When lunch finally arrived, Timothy grabbed his food and decided that he should eat outside. John, however, left immediately for Professor Peacecraft's office, saying that he needed to speak with her. Darian was reluctant at first, but agreed at last to join Timothy outside to eat. They settled near a tree by the lake and Timothy pulled Jeff out of his pocket.  
  
"It's about time! Who knows how much lint I've swallowed!" the shrunken yellow dragon began to cough, sending sparks and smoke across the grass.  
  
"Careful Jeff, you could set all the grass on fire!" Timothy chided, putting his sandwich together.  
  
Jeff upturned his nose at him.  
  
"And what's the big idea for slapping me all the time?"  
  
Timothy persisted to take a large bite of his sandwich and closed his eyes. Darian poked at finger at Jeff with a snort.  
  
"For bringing attention to poor Timothy's pants, that's why!" he stuck a pickle in his mouth.  
  
"If you're gonna come to classes with me, Jeff, you're gonna have to stay as quiet and still as possible." Timothy swallowed, looking at him sternly.  
  
"It's not so easy when you're stuffed in a pocket!" Jeff jumped on all four claws.  
  
"Hey, you wanted to come along," Timothy shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich. "Thaasst da onwy way."  
  
Darian flinched as bits of food sprayed on his face as Timothy spoke. He glared at him as he wiped bits of sandwich off his nose, while Timothy blushed and smiled stupidly. Sighing, Darian rolled over on his back in the grass, glancing a moment at the castle. He sat up on his elbows suddenly and blinked in the light at the big oak front doors.  
  
"Hey, isn't that Luna Dine?"  
  
Timothy stopped in mid-chew and stood up so quickly he nearly stepped on Jeff.  
  
"Hey! Abuse! Abuse, that's all I get!" Jeff bellowed, scurrying to a nearby rock.  
  
"Sorry Jeff," he muttered absentmindedly, straining his eyes to see where the small figure was going. "I think that's her!"  
  
Darian stood up with him and followed his gaze.  
  
"Yeah, so what?"  
  
"Her parents were killed over the summer, you know." Timothy's voice was flat.  
  
"I kinda figured that. But why are you so interested?" Darian put his hands on his hips.  
  
Timothy turned to him and shrugged.  
  
"I just want to apologize, that's all. Problem?"  
  
"No, I guess not." Darian shrugged back.  
  
Still keeping Luna in his sight, Timothy ran off to catch up with her. Darian hesitated, but found himself running after him as well. This left Jeff, his mouth gaping wide open, on the rock.  
  
"HEY! What about me?! HEY! I can't believe this! They've ditched me without even a glance! I really don't know why I stay with these people!" Jeff stomped on the rock angrily, sending out flames and smoke. He continued to whirl around in his discontent when his gaze fell upon a distant and familiar hut in the distance by the woods. Slowly, very slowly, he got a disturbing- yet brilliant- idea. With a last look at the retreating forms of Timothy and Darian, Jeff took off for the last place he'd thought he'd ever want to go. Echolocata Whisper's hut.  
  
  
Panting and sweating despite the early cool breeze of autumn, Timothy stopped halfway around the castle with Darian nearly collapsing at his side.  
  
"Man, that girl walks fast." He gasped, doubling over.  
  
Timothy kept his eye on Luna, who had stopped behind a huge oak tree and disappeared in the shade. From behind them, the bell signaling the end of lunch rang. Both of them looked at each other, then back at the spot where Luna still was.   
  
"We better go, Timothy." Darian warned, standing up straight.  
  
Timothy still stared at where Luna was hiding.  
  
"I still want to talk with her,"  
  
"You can talk to her another time, we have all year." Darian pulled at his arm, turning around to leave.  
  
"No," Timothy pulled his arm back. "She looks like she could use someone to talk to now… I can't explain why I want to talk to her, really. I feel… bad… almost responsible,"  
  
"Responsible? C'mon, Timothy! Of course it's not your fault her parents died. We're gonna be late for class." Darian pulled at him again impatiently.  
  
Timothy pulled free and began to walk toward the tree.  
  
"You go on ahead… I've got the cloak; I'll sneak in somehow." He called over his shoulder.  
  
"Are you sure you want to show Luna your cloak?" Darian hesitated.  
  
"I can trust her that much." Timothy turned to him.  
  
"Can you?" Darian wasn't convinced.  
  
Timothy shrugged and shooed him off, beginning to walk to the tree again. Darian let out a large sigh before running off back inside the castle. As he got closer, Timothy began to really question why he was so insistent on talking to this girl. But like he said to Darian, he had an odd feeling of guilt towards her, and he felt it was right to apologize.   
  
Nothing but the breeze blowing through the branches and leaves of the large tree could be heard. That was until Timothy reached the trunk and began to hear silent sobs. He peeked around and saw the huddled figure of Luna, knees drawn up to her body and her head resting on them. Her shoulder length brown hair was strewn all over the place, blowing across her back in the wind. Timothy hesitated before clearing his throat. Luna jumped at the sound and looked up at him, her face wet with tears and her eyes all red.  
  
"Er… sorry to bother you," he whispered loudly, feeling suddenly embarrassed. "I just wanted to say hi."  
  
Luna turned her head away, and her voice was surprisingly bitter.  
  
"You're late for class."  
  
Timothy winced at her tone, shuffling his feet.  
  
"Well…"  
  
She got to her feet suddenly, wiping her eyes, and began to walk off. Timothy caught her by the elbow.  
  
"Wait… I just wanted to say… to say… to say I'm sorry."  
  
Luna turned to him, her eyes were narrowed and sad.  
  
"Sorry for what? You've done nothing wrong."  
  
"For your parents." Timothy hesitated to whisper.  
  
Her eyes welled with tears again, and she looked away, wrenching her elbow free… but not leaving.  
  
"You didn't kill them… but I as good as did." She whispered.  
  
"It's not your fault either." Timothy wasn't sure how to comfort her.  
  
"I wasn't there!" she yelled suddenly. "I didn't do anything! If I had come home a minute earlier… I would have been dead along with them. But no… no… I walked in the house just as I saw my aunt's brother yell the killing curse. He tortured them first… then killed them. When I screamed… he turned to kill me. But he stopped… he didn't yell the curse. All he did was mutter, 'I'm sorry', then disapparated. My parents didn't deserve to die… I did."  
  
Timothy looked at her in shock. He wasn't prepared to hear her explain all that had happened. When she began to sob again, he nearly panicked. He wasn't sure what to do… he could give her a hug like his father would do, or stroke her hair like his mother would… but he didn't know her well enough that that would seem imposing. All he could do was feel awkward as the girl continued to sob.  
  
"At least you're alive… and no, you do not deserve to die." He finally managed to say.  
  
Luna shook her head.  
  
"What would you know? You have the perfect life! Now I have to live with my grandmother who hates me! She thinks I should have died too! She blames me for the death of my parents; she's hated me ever since last spring. Convinced that I'm the 'bad apple', I had to hear it everyday since they died. You don't have to hear that…"  
  
Timothy grimaced at her.  
  
"My life isn't as perfect as it seems. You should know, you saw Malfoy's plot against me. I have to live knowing that someone wants to kill my family and me very badly. To live with the fact that only I can save the world. Looks can be deceiving." He turned away himself.  
  
They didn't say anything a while, before Luna whispered:  
  
"At least you still have your parents."  
  
Timothy looked over his shoulder at her, but she was looking the other way. He sighed, not knowing how to reply, when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Oh no! Peters!"  
  
The school janitor, Mr. Peters, was patrolling the grounds. Timothy grabbed Luna by the shoulders and pulled her back behind the tree.  
  
"Hey! What are you doing?" she yelped.  
  
"Mr. Peters is right behind the tree by the castle." He whispered, twisting in his spot to see around the tree. The lanky looking old man was peering around the grounds like a watchdog.  
  
"He'll see us!" Luna cried.  
  
"Stay quiet!" Timothy commanded, fingering his pockets for the invisibility cloak his father had given him.   
  
"What're we going to do?" she whispered.  
  
"If you promise never to tell anyone, I have a way."  
  
Two minutes later, Timothy and Luna were huddling under his invisibility cloak and tiptoeing over the grounds toward the castle. Keeping as quiet as possible, they slipped past Peters who had stopped to look in a bush. Just when he straightened up to look behind him, they had turned the corner, putting the front oak doors in their view. They both broke into a run, and entered the castle as indiscreetly as possible. That was until the bell rang.  
  
"The bell! Class is over already?!" Timothy shouted.  
  
"I've never skipped a class before." Luna muttered.  
  
"Neither have I." Timothy looked about as the corridor began to fill with students.  
  
"Suggestions now?" Luna turned to him.  
  
"Into this alcove here, then we'll come out."  
  
They managed to worm their way into the alcove without touching anyone, and Timothy pulled the cloak off. When he had it safely tucked inside his pocket, they walked out together. He let out a sigh of relief, thinking that they had successfully gotten away with not being in class and no one noticing… when someone did.  
  
"Look! There's Timothy!" shouted a Gryffindor.  
  
"Hey, there's Luna!" shouted a Hufflepuff.  
  
All eyes turned on them. Timothy suddenly felt two inches tall.  
  
A simultaneous "oooooooooo" rang out in the hall, and people began to giggle.  
  
"Timothy and Luna were skipping!"  
  
"Together!"  
  
"Uh oh," Timothy moaned. He had a sick sense he knew where this was going. Luna had already turned a bright shade of red.  
  
People began to crowd and giggle at them… boys slapping his back or just laughing… girls pointing and looking jealous at Luna. Timothy began to panic.  
  
"Look, we weren't doing anything. I just…"  
  
"Did you guys kiss?" asked a Ravenclaw.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Going to get married, are you?" snickered a Slytherin.  
  
"NO!" Timothy stomped his foot, but the crowd only giggled more.  
  
"OK, OK, move aside! Coming through! Hey, watch it there, that's my butt! Move, people, move! Make way, c'mon!" Darian suddenly appeared at Timothy's side and began to pull him away.  
  
"Oh, thank God you're here!" Timothy let out a sigh of relief.  
  
"You didn't tell me you were going to flirt with her!" Darian called over his shoulder.  
  
Timothy moaned.  
  
"Oh, not you too!"  
  
"Nah, just kidding with ya." He laughed at him. Timothy looked back to see Luna, but she was already gone. He was pulled up the stairs and toward their next class, where Darian shoved his school bag into his hands.  
  
"Saved your stuff."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"So how does it feel to have skipped a class for the first time?" Darian walked with him down the hall.  
  
"Well, I won't be getting a medal for it, that's for sure." Timothy muttered.  
  
Despite Timothy's fears, nobody inquired after that on where he was. While he knew that Professor Miller would ask him the following day, Timothy knew that if he told him he felt ill, that that would work. It was a relief that he wasn't teased during Professor Lupin's class, next, for that would have been even more embarrassing… since he was in close contact with his parents.  
  
That day, they were continuing the study of the largest of dark creatures. Lupin taught "Defense Against Dark Creatures", and it was Timothy's favorite class for more than one reason. When everyone was settled, Lupin addressed the class.  
  
"Today, we'll be covering dragons."  
  
Timothy felt his heart stop.  
  
"Dragons?! Oh no! Jeff!" Timothy stood up suddenly in his seat.  
  
Lupin stared at him, first in surprise, then in mild suspicion. The entire class turned to him again as Timothy cursed himself silently. Darian however, realized what was wrong.  
  
"I haven't seen him!" he hissed up to him. It took a moment more for John to figure out the problem. After all, he had been with Professor Peacecraft during lunch. He looked at the both in turn with worry.  
  
"Timothy, is there a problem?" Lupin called up to him kindly. The look in his eyes, on the other hand, told Timothy he already knew the answer. It never occurred to him that his parents might have told Lupin that Jeff was joining him at school. But there was no time to ponder, if Jeff was lost on school grounds, who knew what would happen if he was found and caught in the wrong hands.  
  
"Er… I need to use the bathroom, Professor!" Timothy said in a small, squeaky voice. When Lupin nodded, it was hard for him to stop himself from running out of the classroom. Just as he reached the door, he heard Darian's chair slide out abruptly.  
  
"Professor! I left my textbook in my trunk! No worries, I'll run up and get it real quick! No need to halt your instructions just for me, you just keep on teaching! I'll just be going now, but I'll be back!" he called out quickly, not waiting for an answer and scuttled past desks with surprised students and joined Timothy at the door. He gave him a broad grin and a wink, and as they left, Timothy could see John shake his head helplessly and Lupin containing a smile.  
  
They practically fell into the corridor, slamming the classroom door shut behind them.  
  
"How could we let this happen?!" Timothy shrieked, tearing off down the corridor as silently as he could.  
  
"I was with you, so don't blame me!" Darian pointed to himself defensively.  
  
"What if Peters found him? Oh, I can only imagine!" Timothy moaned, jumping the staircase steps two at a time.  
  
"Let's not." Darian said morosely.  
  
"Maybe Dumbledore found him… perhaps we could convince him not to tell anyone." Timothy thought out loud.  
  
"If you don't get in trouble for having him in the first place." Darian pointed out.  
  
They made sure to slow down past classroom door windows, speed up silently down corridors and staircases, and carefully slipped out of the castle without anyone noticing. They stood on the stone steps and stared around wildly at the vast grassy grounds that seemed to go on forever around the school.  
  
"He could be anywhere!" Timothy groaned.  
  
"Well, let's start where we last saw him. He could still be there, for all we know!" Darian started off toward the lake, Timothy following close behind.  
  
When they reached the tree where they had eaten lunch, there was no sign of the shrunken yellow Jefforagon. Timothy sank to his knees in the grass, shaking his head.  
  
"Oh, my mum's going to be so upset if she hears I've lost him!"  
  
"Well, at least your dad won't be upset." Darian considered, hiding a smile.  
  
Timothy thought a moment.  
  
"Yeah, but mum is just plain scary when she's mad… I don't think even dad could hold her back."  
  
Darian sat on the grass with him and looked around, the breeze blowing their black hair around restlessly. Timothy continued to moan, and Darian grew steadily annoyed.  
  
"Stop that, will you? You sound like a dying cow."  
  
Timothy rolled his eyes with exasperation.  
  
"If your best friend was lost and most likely captured to be sold as someone's pet, you'd be moaning like a cow too! Not to mention the thought of your own mother hexing you!"  
  
Darian raised his eyebrows.  
  
"But isn't Jeff sorta like your pet?"  
  
Timothy opened his mouth to answer sharply, but stopped himself. In a way, Jeff was the family pet. They certainly treated him like one a lot. With this realization, a pit of guilt built up in his stomach, and he moaned louder.  
  
"Well, he's gotta be around her somewhere," Darian stood up, brushing pieces of grass off his pants and looking around. "Maybe he's in the Forbidden Forest, like he was last year."  
  
Timothy nodded and got to his own feet, following Darian off toward the woods where students were forbidden to go. They scanned the edge of the tree line, but unlike the previous year, Jeff was no where to be seen or heard.  
  
"Let's face it, Darian, he's not here." Timothy sighed.  
  
"Unless he's deeper in the woods." Darian muttered.  
  
Timothy groaned yet again.  
  
"Well, we can't go in there."  
  
"We'll just have to let him find his own way back, if that's where he's gone."  
  
"Yeah, let's go. Professor Lupin will begin to worry and we'll get in trouble." Timothy shoved his hands in his pockets and began to leave, when Echolocata Whisper's hut caught his eye. Darian followed his gaze and they exchanged dubious looks.  
  
"You don't think…?"  
  
"That would be the last place…"  
  
"Maybe she found him…"  
  
"Worth a shot to ask."  
  
Uncertainly, they started off toward the extraordinarily large hut. Both of them shook their heads as they got closer, doubting that Jeff was inside. Together, they reached up and knocked on the huge door. After a moment of scuffling, it opened, and in the doorframe was the towering Timberlan.  
  
"Oh! What a most pleasant surprise! I didn't think you'd visit me at all! Come in, dears, come in!"  
  
With absolutely no effort, she swept them inside with her massive hands. Her hut was unchanged since the last time they were in there. Overly large furniture sparsely dotted the one-roomed building. The fireplace crackled in a corner, and smiling broadly, Whisper sat down in one of the huge chairs.  
  
"I bet you're looking for your little friend, hmm Mr. Potter?"  
  
Timothy continued to sweep the hut with his eyes, replying with his most polite voice.  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Have you seen him?"  
  
Darian nodded silently at his side.  
  
All of Whisper's shiny white teeth broke out on her face, and she slowly turned in her seat to look at something both boys hadn't noticed. A tall perch stood behind her, and perched on top was…   
  
"You don't mean…?" Timothy blurted out, flabbergasted.  
  
"Oh my gosh!" Darian put a hand over his mouth.  
  
It was a yellow owl, and it was laughing so hard that it nearly toppled over and fell.  
  
"JEFF!" Timothy turned to Whisper, his eyes narrowed. "You turned my friend into an OWL!"  
  
Whisper only looked slightly hurt, more embarrassed than anything else. She played with a large teacup on the table, averting her eyes.  
  
"He asked me to! But I'm afraid Timberlans aren't that good at exact magic and while he asked to be turned into some form where he could travel easily, I could only change his form- not his color."  
  
"He asked you to?" Both Timothy and Darian gasped. Meanwhile, Jeff, as a yellow owl, continued to laugh in a combination of hoots and guffaws. Timothy crossed his arms and scowled at him; Jeff soon quieted.  
  
"It's the best disguise!" he fluttered up to perch on Timothy's shoulder. He still continued to scowl, but Jeff just preened his feathers like there was no problem. "Now I can stay at Hogwarts with you, and not have to stay in that stuffy pocket!"  
  
"Did it not occur to you, Jeff," Darian stated, "That you are yellow? In case you didn't know, there are no such things as yellow owls. Don't you think you'll be slightly conspicuous hanging in the owlry as the only yellow owl there? And let's not think about what others would think when they see a yellow owl hanging out with Timothy, especially when he already has an owl!"  
  
Jeff cocked his owl head in consideration. Timothy was too flustered to say anything. Echolocata Whisper simply poured herself some tea.  
  
"Alright, maybe I overlooked that part. But I'll just stay in Timothy's room… but as an owl I'll be free to fly about."  
  
Timothy just couldn't think of anything to say. One thing was for sure, this would not be going in his letter home to his parents. His mother wouldn't be too keen on Jeff being turned into an owl just as much as losing him. All he could manage was,  
  
"We'll figure this out later. In the meantime, Jeff, you fly up to our dorm and stay there. We have to get back to class before Professor Lupin gets mad. No doubt he'll want to hear about this, and I'm not sure how to lie about Jeff being an owl."  
  
He turned to Whisper and gave a courteous nod.  
  
"Thank you for keeping Jeff safe, and not telling anyone."  
  
"Oh, no problem, my dear. I'm only sorry I changed him without your permission, but he was so insistent! He only wanted a better way to be with you here at school without your worry." She smiled at them kindly.  
  
Jeff flashed Timothy the most innocent eyes an owl could muster, and Timothy groaned.  
  
"Well, at least no one will know he's a dragon."  
  
"That is, until he tries to breathe fire." Darian muttered.  
  
"Hey, I'll behave. As long as you no longer ditch me without a thought, anymore." Jeff said indignantly.   
  
"Yeah, right." Both boys said, waving goodbye to Whisper, and left the hut. After an insistent push from Timothy, Jeff took off somewhat shakily on his new wings and headed for Gryffindor Tower. Timothy and Darian hurried back to class without a problem, only an interested glance from Lupin and an intense gaze from John as they sat down, panting.  
  
"I'll tell you later." Timothy whispered to John, copying his notes.  
  
"Why do I have a feeling it's bad and I don't really need to be told." John smiled.  
  
"With you being who you are, you're right." Darian muttered.  
  
  
Sure enough, when the bell rang, Lupin called Timothy and Darian over to have them explain themselves. John waited outside the door as both boys poured out the details. Timothy cringed as he got to the part about Jeff becoming a yellow owl.  
  
"Don't tell mum, please!" he begged. "She'll hex me!"  
  
Lupin, to his surprise, laughed.  
  
"Oh, I'm not so sure about that! Believe me, she knows Jeff. It's not surprising the little scaled idiot would go off and do this. If he has to be here, and he's here because he cares for you, then being an owl is the best way to go."  
  
"But he's yellow," Darian said. "People are not going to overlook him."  
  
"You're creative," Lupin said to them both with a smile. "I'm sure you can come up with a convincing explanation.  
  
"He can still talk," Timothy pointed out grimly.  
  
"Well, you'll just have to convince him to keep his now beaked mouth shut." Lupin sighed. He sat at his desk and shuffled papers, signaling the conversation now over. Darian began to leave, but Timothy hesitated.  
  
"So… are you going to write my parents about this?" he asked meekly.  
  
Lupin cocked his head at him and sighed again, giving him another of his warm smiles.  
  
"I'm not a tattle-tale who runs off to your parents to rattle on you. I believe you can handle this situation perfectly on your own, and there's no need for me to intervene. If you want your parents to know about this, than you can tell them yourself. They won't hear it from me, first."  
  
"Thank you, Unc- I mean, Professor Lupin." Timothy smiled back, following Darian out. Lupin beamed at him as he left, then went back to his papers with yet another sigh.  
  
  
"Jeff did what?" John gasped.  
  
The three of them were in the Gryffindor common room that evening. Timothy and Darian explained in turn about what had happened since lunch. John listened intently to them both, his air of distance and mysterious forlorn temporarily unseen. Jeff was still up in their dorm room, but Timothy had magically locked the door to keep people out until he explained about the new "yellow owl". He told all of the other second year Gryffindor boys who shared the room at dinner, and while they were pleasantly skeptical, they believed him. On a whim, Timothy said that the new owl was Darian's, much to his surprise.  
  
"Looks like I get an owl after all!" Darian had said.  
  
Now comfortably in front of the common room fire, Timothy explained everything to John. It was at that time that he decided to tell both of his friends about what had happened to Luna.  
  
"I knew about her parents," John said, his voice solemn. "And the feeling I got from her from the only time I've seen her so far was intensely disturbed, but I had no idea it was that bad."  
  
"Well, what else did you expect?" Darian said, crossing his arms and sitting back in the armchair he was sitting in. "Her parents are murdered right in front of her eyes by one of the henchmen of the current most evil wizard in the world. I'd say I would be disturbed."  
  
John shrugged.  
  
"And now," Timothy continued quietly. "Now the whole school thinks that Luna and I are… are a…"  
  
"Couple?" John smiled.  
  
"We are not!" Timothy snapped a little too loudly, making heads turn all around them. He blushed and sank into his chair.  
  
"She would be the last person Timothy would date, I'm sure." Darian told John. "After what she did last year… plus, she's so small and… and… and… she's so small!"  
  
Timothy opened his mouth to argue that it wasn't Luna's fault for what she did to him the previous year, that in fact she saved him, but thought it best not to. John apparently, got the hint.  
  
"Girls are a waste of time, anyway." Darian added. "You can't understand them, and I have no reason to bother to."  
  
All three of them nodded and fell silent a moment.  
  
"John, what was it that you and Professor Peacecraft did?" Timothy broke the silence.  
  
John looked around the room until he was sure no one was listening in, and he leaned forward in his chair to whisper. Timothy and Darian inched closer.  
  
"We did another lesson, that's all."  
  
Darian seemed satisfied with the statement, and leaned back into his chair. Timothy, however, could see something in John's eyes that told him that there was something more. But when he started to inquire, John shook his head quickly.  
  
"I'm tired," he said suddenly. "I'm heading upstairs to bed. How 'bout you guys?"  
  
Darian let out a stifled yawn.  
  
"Yeah, let's go." Timothy got up.  
  
When they got into the dorm, Ben, Bran, and Bobby (the other Gryffindor second years) were already in bed and fast asleep. Timothy was the slowest to get into his pajamas, Darian couldn't get into bed sooner, and John didn't look at either of them as he climbed behind the curtains of his four-poster.  
  
It wasn't long until the only sounds in the dorm were the quiet snores of Bobby and the occasional snort from Darian. Timothy, however, could not sleep. So many thoughts bounced around in his mind that he couldn't decipher which thought was which anymore. The family crest, Summerray, the family crest, Luna, and the family crest nagged him continuously until an hour later he sat up straight in bed. He was wide-awake with his troubled thoughts, but now that he was at school, he couldn't go to his parents to make him hot milk and make him feel better. What he wanted most at that moment was to talk to someone who would understand, to not hold anything back and tell everything. But everyone was asleep… he couldn't write his parents because he just couldn't tell them… and if he could get Jeff to make him feel better, it would mean he would have to talk and blow his cover to Ben, Bran, and Bobby.  
  
He laid back down and closed his eyes, forcing himself to go to sleep, but sleep just wouldn't come. Finally, he caught one idea in his head and sat up again.  
  
My uncle's diary! He thought to himself, scrambling as quietly as he could to his trunk where he had put the diary when he had gotten to school. Taking up his wand as well, he whispered "Lumos" and threw the bed sheets over his head to muffle the light. He flipped a couple of pages and started to read.  
  
Hello diary,  
Today at school we got our book report subjects. I have to do my report on the trolls of Europe. Normally that would be OK, but we have to have partners for this project. Mrs. Stanley wouldn't let us pick our partners, and I got stuck with a girl. She's really annoying and her name is Lauren. When we went to the library to start our research, a giant book called the Giants of the World fell on her head and she began to cry. I helped her up and gave her a tissue, and now the whole class thinks we're "boyfriend-girlfriend". Ewww! No! I can't change partners, so I'm stuck with her. Now I have to be teased all day long and Lauren persists to flirt with me. Why me?  
Timothy Springs  
Age 12  
  
Timothy couldn't help but laugh silently. How ironic for his uncle to have faced a similar situation with a girl! As amusing as it was, nothing in this entry helped him as to what to do. He figured that he would just have to let the thing with Luna blow over. For a few more minutes, Timothy read some more of the diary, before he finally felt a yawn coming on. Soon, he fell asleep with the diary still open across his chest and the light of his wand eventually went out.  
  
  
Much to his despair, the school wasn't about to forget about him and Luna for a while. The next three weeks of school was torture as he went down hallways and ate meals. Timothy only saw Luna from time to time, and it must have been just as bad for her, for now she scowled at him angrily from a long distance. He found it just as well; no need for her to have actual feelings for him. The less he saw her the better.  
  
Darian and John were as supportive as best friends could be. However, John was spending more time with Professor Peacecraft for lessons. So it was Darian who became Timothy's bodyguard. It worked out for a while, but Timothy soon became annoyed by his loud and affronted manner echoing down corridors.  
  
"Really, Darian, there's no need to yell down the corridors." He chided him quietly as Darian ordered two third year Ravenclaws to mind their own business.  
  
"It's the only way, Timothy, the only way!" Darian shook his head.  
  
Soon, however, things quieted down. Much to his surprise, Timothy and Darian weren't pressed as to why there was now a mysterious yellow owl living in the boys' dorms. He wrote to his parents often, and they wrote back; nothing much was happening and his parents were finally getting some rest. Although, when Timothy would quietly relay this information to Darian and John, John would only look solemn.  
  
"What is it that you do during these lessons with Peacecraft, anyway?" Timothy asked him at dinner.  
  
John stared at his plate, shoving food around with his fork.  
  
"Just… control over… over my abilities." He whispered.  
  
"Quidditch starts in October, Timothy, there are two new positions!" Darian said suddenly, looking over at a bulletin board where crowds of students were huddling over.  
  
Timothy followed his gaze with interest. His place on the team was as good as guaranteed that year. Taku Smith was the only reason he didn't make it the year before. Now he was serving a life sentence in Azkaban, and was expelled from school. His position as beater was open. Keanu Nole, the seventh year seeker from the previous year and Gryffindor captain, graduated so his position was open as well. Timothy was curious as to who was elected team captain that year.  
  
When the crowd thinned both Timothy and Darian got up to read the poster.  
  
QUIDDITCH TRY-OUTS  
September the 29th  
The following house teams have openings:  
GRYFFINDOR  
SLYTHERIN  
RAVENCLAW  
Those interested in playing for their house need to report to their team's captain before the 29th:  
SEAMORE WALTERS (6th year)- GRYFFINDOR  
TILLIKUM DREW (6th year)- SLYTHERIN  
ROWENA STONE (5th year)- RAVENCLAW  
Quidditch season starts in October. Good luck!  
  
"We've got it this year!" Darian said happily.  
  
Timothy felt his chest rise with excitement as well. Maybe Quidditch could help keep his mind off of everything better.  
  
"We've got to find Walters." He said, looking back at the Gryffindor table. Most of the other students had already gone, and while he remembered the beater from the previous year's try-outs, Timothy wasn't so sure he could pick him out of a crowd. "Do you remember what he looks like?"  
  
"We'll wait 'till later, in the common room. All the older kids hang out together, so we're bound to find him then." Darian suggested, going back to sit with John.  
  
"Still think joining Quidditch will impair our studies, huh John?" he poked jokingly at him.  
  
Timothy gave Darian a reproving glare, but John didn't even seem to have heard the remark. Instead, he got up without looking at them and brushed food crumbs off of his robes.  
  
"I gotta talk to Peacecraft 'bout something, I'll meet you up in the dorm later. See ya." He left the hall without a backward glance, almost in a hurry.  
  
"I swear, Timothy, I don't know why we hang with the guy anymore. He's even more estranged than last year!" Darian sighed, finishing his dinner.  
  
Timothy looked at the vacant spot where John was sitting with an intense stare, almost as if he expected the answer to John's behavior to pop out at him. Certainly it couldn't be the vision he had seen of Timothy. Of all people for that to bother, it would be him! And it had been, but not nearly as much as John, apparently. There was something more to it, and it seemed to bother John so much that the only one he could obviously confide in was Professor Peacecraft. This was understandable, but if it concerned him, Timothy would much rather have John just tell him than to keep it secret.  
  
"It's just the way he is. Leave him alone, OK? He's got it bad at home and Hogwarts is the only place he gets slack. He doesn't need us all over him like bullies. It's his business and we have no right to butt in. C'mon, let's go up and find Walters." Timothy stood up and began to leave without waiting. His cover for John seemed to satisfy Darian, and he soon followed. However, there was one thing Timothy said that he wasn't sure of. His business. If his business had anything to do with him… he had a right to know about it. Yet, as they walked up to Gryffindor Tower, Darian distracted his mind with thoughts of Quidditch glory, and worry about John was soon forgotten.  
  
"Hey there, Timothy! 'Ello, Darian." Greeted the portrait of Hagrid, who guarded the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
"Hello Hagrid, everything well?" Timothy inquired politely.  
  
"Oh sure, sure. How 'bout yeh parents? Heard from them lately?"  
  
"Their fine. Things have quieted down, so they are home more often with Kalina." Timothy answered. Darian fidgeted impatiently.  
  
"Ah, 'dats good to know. But yeh parents wouldn't let their guard down, no sir. We're in safe hands as long as yeh parents are around, mark my words." Hagrid said intensely. "Password?"  
  
"Dragon's bane." Both Timothy and Darian answered. With a last broad smile, Hagrid swung open and they both climbed in.  
  
The common room was hot with chatter and the rich fire in the fireplace. Clusters of students, keeping to their grades, filled each corner with the latest gossip and news. Timothy and Darian got a wave and some nods from Bran, Bobby, and Ben, who were playing Exploding Snap on the floor. They walked on, looking for the group of sixth years where Walters would be. Sure enough, at a large table, Seamore Walters was laughing heartily with two other sixth years and some girls in the same grade. When Timothy and Darian approached, Walters took notice and waved them over.  
  
"Thought I'd see you soon," he said immediately to Timothy. "Your friend, too."  
  
Timothy took a glance at Darian, who looked slightly put out by the second rate greeting he got in Timothy's wake.  
  
"With your family history, Potter, and your performance last year, try-outs will be no problem. Got yourself some competition, though." Walters continued with the attitude only a captain could bear.  
  
"Well, I'll try not to be too hard on him." Darian joked, trying to grab attention.  
  
Walters merely smirked in response.  
  
"Not just you, but the other two second years, one first year, and three fifth years. And that's just so far. With your luck, come the 29th, the whole house could be trying out!"  
  
Darian turned a dark maroon and seemed to visibly shrink a few inches. Timothy tried to give him confidence.  
  
"Well, my bud here can give me a hard time when he really wants to. I'm sure he'll do just fine."  
  
Walters kept his smirk and turned to his friends.  
  
"Everyone will have their chance. What's your name again? Hall? I'll see the two of you out at the pitch on the 29th."  
  
Darian steamed at him, fingering his wand, but Timothy grabbed his arm and pulled him away.  
  
"I'm not sure if I want to be under orders of such a conceited priss if he acts that way to all his teammates." He scowled angrily back at the table.  
  
"Don't worry about it, he's just adding to the fire, you know? He's doing it on purpose so that you'll give it all you got out at the pitch." Timothy reassured him, but he knew that because of his name, yet again, he was getting the good treatment. Poor Darian would only his shadow.  
  
"I don't need to be smirked at or mocked to give it all I got!" Darian nearly shouted over Timothy's shoulder.  
  
"Quiet! Just let it go, OK? Don't worry about it 'till the 29th. C'mon, let's go check on Jeff." Timothy led the way up the stairs, Darian continuing to scowl behind his back as they ascended. However, suddenly, Timothy stopped dead.  
  
"You hear that?"  
  
"No, I only hear that jerk laughing like a pompous idiot." Darian answered bitterly.  
  
"No! I heard… a scream!" Timothy leapt up the stairs.  
  
"A what?" Darian ran up after him.  
  
Timothy charged at the door labeled "Second Years" and threw it open, the screaming inside a combination of hoots and angry cries. He stood in the doorway, whipping out his wand furiously to face whomever it was, and searched the room. Darian nearly toppled into his back, panting.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Jeff?" Timothy called out carefully, masking his worry. Yellow feathers began to drift from above him, and both boys craned to look over their heads. While the dorm room was dark, they could still make out a shivering yellow mass perched atop John's four-poster. "Jeff?"  
  
"Stupid… stupid! Out for revenge! That's what! Stupid…" It was Jeff all right, stuttering and shaking off feathers everywhere. Timothy motioned for Darian to close the door as he lit some candles then pocketed his wand. They searched the room, top to bottom. While there were some nightstands upturned and bed covers ruffled, there was no sign of an intruder anymore. Somewhat satisfied, Timothy tried to coax his friend down.  
  
"Whatever, or whomever it was is gone now, Jeff. Come down!"  
  
After shaking off what was left of his fear, Jeff flew down to perch on Timothy's shoulder. It took a minute for Timothy to get used to the fact that his dragon friend was now an owl perched on him, but he cleared his mind quickly and demanded answers.  
  
"What happened, Jeff?"  
  
"Who would of thought… thought they were as dumb as doornails…" Jeff panted.  
  
"Who attacked you?"  
  
"Out to get me, obviously… revenge for last summer…"  
  
"WHO. WAS. IT?" Timothy demanded, worry giving way to impatience.  
  
Jeff flinched as Darian watched the two silently from his bed.  
  
"Well, I never got a name, if that's what you're asking for so rudely!" Jeff finally gathered himself, hotly. "I just get attacked by a murderous snake and you go off on me like a murder suspect!"  
  
Timothy's eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously.  
  
"Snake. You had said something about snakes just after we got back from Florida this summer, didn't you?"  
  
Jeff blinked at him intensely with his new large owl eyes.  
  
"Yes, but all of you were too busy with your own problems so you just said the heck with explanations and turned me into a goat!"  
  
Timothy let out a controlled breath in exasperation.  
  
"First off, it was innocent oversight, then it was dad who turned you into a goat, not me! But anyway, I need to know about this snake. Was the snake you saw just now the same snake you saw then?"  
  
Jeff cocked his head in thought, considering a moment.  
  
"Yes," he said slowly. "But both times I've seen it, it had been dark. Both times the snake was black, but like I said, it was dark. Very long and menacing it was."  
  
Timothy felt a shiver go down his spine, sweat beaded on his forehead. Jeff didn't seem to notice, and continued.  
  
"And what made it more odd that his snake is after me, it seems, is that it doesn't speak."  
  
"You speak parseltounge too?" Darian asked, speaking up for the first time.  
  
"I'm a talented dragon. Timothy's dad and I have had many conversations with garden snakes in the backyard. But getting back to what I was saying, all snakes speak, and I mean all. You can't get them to shut up. Not this one though, no, this one's a mute. A mute that has me on it's hit list and I don't know why."  
  
Timothy's knees began to wobble, and he sat down on his bed across from Darian. The sweat began to bead down his face and it took him a moment to realize he was shaking.  
  
"Timothy, you OK?" Darian asked with concern.  
  
"It's not you who should be worried, Wild One, it should be me!" Jeff's voice came light as to reassure him, and he nuzzled his feathered head into Timothy's neck, but the comfort didn't work.  
  
Oh, but it is me who should be worried. John's vision is truly real. The black snake that frightens him so is following me. Only poor Jeff's been getting in the way. Timothy thought.  
  
"Timothy, you look pale. Do you need to see my mom?" Darian looked at him close with worry.  
  
"No… no, I need to see… I need to see… John." Timothy got up quickly and put Jeff hastily back on his perch.  
  
"Why John?" Darian asked.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
John had opened the door, and while he asked a question, his tone told he already knew the answer. Timothy turned to him fearfully.  
  
"I think we need to let Darian in on something," he whispered.  
  
John nodded grimly, his arms folded.  
  
"There's something more I need to let you in on too."  
  
Darian looked at them both in turn with a suspicious look.  
  
"What's going on? Let me in on what?"  
  
"Perhaps it's time I told both of you what I was told not to tell, as well." Timothy sighed.  
  
"Alright! What's going on? Enough with the mysterious cryptic statements, I want answers, right now!" Darian demanded.  
  
Timothy and John exchanged long, intense looks.  
  
"We better get our pajamas on," Timothy whispered. "We're in for a long night."  
  
  
A/N: Short, yet intriguing, I feel. What happens next I want to have it's own chapter for... and there's still much, much more yet to come in the story that it has to get rolling along. So, Timothy's being chased by a snake that can only seem to get it's scales on poor Jeff. Jeff decided to go avian; it will be amusing to see how this works out. John's holding something more back that as this chapter closes, he apparently is going to let loose. Timothy apparently is going to finally tell them about the crest- even though he won't tell his family. And poor Darian get's the cold shoulder and seems to be the last to know everything so far. What does the future hold? I assure you, it's my best yet! God bless creativity and my willpower to ignore school to bring this all to you. Do me a grand and gracious favor by reviewing! It helps fuel the fire! Chapter six- by 2/26/01.  
  
I'll answer your Q's and statements from your reviews at my site! Check it out daily at:  
HTTP://WWW.THEWORLDOFRENEEPOTTER.DISNEYFANSITES.COM  
  
See you soon!  
~OrcaPotter 


	6. The Talent Scout

A/N: Ahem, well... it's out early! Yes, again, and I'm on a roll! There is only one thing bugg'n me that I'll "voice" before you read on: reviews. Authoralerts, I think, are not working... and so people are not reading. And when people don't read, they don't review (ooo, there's an observation!). ::puts hands together:: PLEASE, review... tell me what you think so far. I have very surprising plans for this story- and to make it good I need to know if everything is just peachy up to this point. OK? So, be kind... rewind- no wait, that's videos... uhmm- need your view, please review? Uhmmm... yes, whatever- moving on! READ & ENJOY! Then... REVIEW!  
  
  
  
Chapter Six: The Talent Scout   
  
  
Timothy told everything. The visions, the crest, the destiny… everything. Darian stared with wordless awe the entire time, as John nodded in comprehension. Timothy explained quickly, not stopping a moment in fear that someone would walk into the room and overhear. When he finally did pause, taking a deep breath and wondering if he had done something terrible, John spoke up.  
  
"I have more to tell. I've had more visions."  
  
"I feel so stupid… both of you keeping secrets from me!" Darian shook his head.  
  
"Sorry," both Timothy and John frowned.  
  
"More visions?" Timothy looked at John.  
  
"I found out more parts to the original vision… answers to why strange things have been bothering me. Through my lessons with Peacecraft, she has taught me that by being an empath, you first must learn to read your own mind. Of course she knows about the visions too, and she taught me how to recall them on command and see more detail. Tonight, I finally broke through. Although, it doesn't make any more sense now than it had before."  
  
"Like what?" Timothy whispered.  
  
"Remember when Darian pulled that book out on knights in the bookstore this summer?"  
  
"Yeah." Both Timothy and Darian replied.  
  
"Well, tonight, in my original vision I now saw knights lining a field. Then I saw a figure… not too tall, but not short, with red hair. He was facing these knights as if he were going to fight them. I don't know what happens next, but the feeling I get from it is of immense pain."  
  
Timothy and Darian stared at him silently, the quiet only disturbed when there was a violent knock on the dorm door.  
  
"Let us in! For crying out loud, it's 1 AM!"  
  
"We've been standing out here for ages!"  
  
No on moved, until the poundings outside got so intense that Darian finally stood up and opened it slowly. Ben stormed into the room, closely followed by very a tired looking Bobby and Bran.  
  
"Really, if you must have a slumber party without us, do it somewhere else!" Ben lit a candle with his wand angrily.  
  
"Sorry, we didn't notice the time." Timothy apologized.  
  
"Didn't notice the time," Bran rolled his eyes. "We've only been yelling from outside the door for the past two hours!"  
  
"We almost went to get Miller, you're not allowed to have spells over the doors in the dormitory, you know." Bobby yawned.  
  
"Yeah well, what we were doing is not your business and we had every right to spell lock the door." Darian countered.  
  
The anger and fatigue in the room reached a noticeable level, and as Darian and Ben faced each other off in challenge, Timothy jumped between them.  
  
"We won't do it again, alright Ben? Sorry, we really are. Let's just go to bed, OK?"  
  
After a tense moment of staring each other down, both boys agreed and Ben mumbled something about "school night, the nerve" as he climbed into bed and hastily closed his curtains. Timothy sighed, looking over at John who wore an indifferent expression as he disappeared behind his own coverings. Bran and Bobby were soon in bed as well, but Timothy and Darian continued to stare at each other.  
  
"What now?" Darian mouthed silently.  
  
Timothy shrugged and gave him a helpless look.  
  
Reluctantly, they too, climbed into their beds. It was impossible, however, for Timothy to sleep. Did he do the wrong thing about telling his friends about his destiny? About the crest? What did the new information about John's vision mean to him? What did it all mean, anyway? Was it really the snake from John's vision that kept attacking Jeff? And why?  
  
It was a long, long time, it seemed, before sleep finally claimed Timothy. He couldn't tell he had fallen asleep, though, for one moment it seemed he was lying in bed, when the next he was standing in the middle of a tropical forest. A forest that looked oddly familiar. The edges around the tall pine trees and palmetto bushes seemed fuzzy to his eyes and Timothy rubbed his sleeve across his glasses hoping it would clear his vision. But it didn't, and to his surprise, instead of his pajama sleeve he saw on his arm, he was wearing his school uniform.  
  
Timothy walked on through the hazy forest silently, not feeling the least bit disturbed that he had suddenly appeared in the thick of it out of no where. He kept walking, and walking, following a worn path between bushes and flowering hibiscus plants. The sweet scent was strong and Timothy could smell every blossom. As he looked about through the branches and leaves, Timothy could make out the figure of a girl in the distance.  
  
"Hello?" He called out to her, and he could hear a familiar high-pitched giggle.  
  
"My Owl Eyes, how blind you are!"  
  
"Summerray?" Timothy whispered, dubious.  
  
As he lifted a fern branch to see her more clearly, Timothy jumped as his nose bumped into Summerray's. She laughed at him heartily, her outlined body as fuzzy as the plants around him.  
  
"How blind you are, my Owl Eyes." She whispered when her laughter died.  
  
"How…?" Timothy started, rubbing his nose, but Summerray closed her eyes and shook her head.  
  
"You are not looking. Things will be worse for you if you don't." she whispered seriously.  
  
"What do you…?" He started again, but she suddenly laughed again and with a flash, disappeared from sight.  
  
Timothy pried through the bush to see where she had gone, but something large fell on his shoulder… something unnaturally warm.  
  
"Odd creatures, the natives, 'em?"  
  
He slowly, carefully, looked over his shoulder and saw a very tall man.   
  
Unlike Summerray, who had appeared normal however fuzzy on the outlines like everything else, this man seemed translucent. While he could see professional wizarding robes in their original dark blue and khaki color, the man was glowing a gold shimmer that was unearthly, but beautiful.  
  
"She's right, though." The man spoke again, his voice youthful and wise at the same time. He sounded far away, almost.  
  
"R-right about… what?" Timothy gasped, not knowing how to perceive this stranger, who didn't feel strange at all, but familiar.  
  
"Walk with me, short stuff, let's talk." The man smiled and began to walk further down the trail, leaving Timothy dumbstruck in his spot. The unearthly light that seemed to radiate from this man dimmed as he walked away, and the fuzzy outlined forest now began to disappear. Fearing that he would get swallowed in darkness, Timothy bounded after the man.   
  
He had to run to keep up with the familiar stranger, for the man was so tall, that for each of his steps Timothy had to take two. The scene around him blurred as trees and bushes past by as he continued to follow down the trail. While he expected to hear the wind blowing, animals, and the crunching of the footfalls they were making, Timothy heard nothing but the sound of his own breathing. The man was silent, but he gave off a friendly… almost loving aura that Timothy was more bewildered than afraid.  
  
Suddenly, the man stopped, and Timothy ran head on into his back. As he stumbled and nearly fell backward, the man hardly had to turn around for his long muscular arm to grab Timothy's hand and steady him. Timothy looked up at him, eyes wide, as he felt warmth spread through his body at his touch.  
  
"I've got'cha." The man laughed kindly. He pulled Timothy to his side, and looked out in front of him, his face growing slowly serious. Forcing himself to follow his gaze, Timothy gasped.  
  
They were still standing in the forest, but at the edge, and were looking out at a totally new scene. In front of them was a huge room brightly lit by torches along the walls. In the center of the room was a large round table littered with parchment and quills. Around the table sat wizards and witches dressed in auror's robes. They all looked tired and weary, and, with a closer look, Timothy could see his Great Uncle Us sitting next to his parents! At the head of the table, next to his parents, sat Eian Dumbledore, the Hogwarts headmaster. Everyone wore grim faces, his parents more than anyone. A lump formed in Timothy's throat, for he knew the reason.  
  
"I never imagined what my little sister would get involved with… but I always knew that she was capable of anything. Yet, I'm afraid this time…" the man sighed, shaking his head.  
  
Timothy looked up at him and realized who it was with a strange lack of surprise. He frowned and blinked slowly.  
  
"This time both she and my father can't save the world. This time, it's my turn."  
  
The ghostly image of his dead uncle looked down on him with respect and pride.  
  
"What lies ahead is something more than anyone, even your parents, could ever predict. I'm afraid I can't tell you much… and that I can't help like this again… but listen to me, nephew. Use your instincts. When something seems wrong, it most likely is. Telling your friends about your quest wasn't wrong, but only you can help yourself in the end. Looks can be deceiving- both in a good way and a bad. Keep your eyes open. Do you understand?"  
  
Timothy nodded.  
  
"I'm glad you found the diary. It helped me, and it will help you too in ways unexpected." He continued with a smile.  
  
"It already has." Timothy smiled back.  
  
"Remember… when things seem impossible, always try the improbable." The ghostly image of his uncle laughed brightly. "Who ever thought I'd be talking like a scholar! If only your mother could hear me now… but when she dreams, she dreams of times that were. Only once was I able to say goodbye."  
  
"Is this goodbye, too?" Timothy asked quietly.  
  
"It's hello and goodbye… but the ones that we love and admire are never truly gone, as I am. Only just out of your senses… but we're there, by your side, root'n for ya! Like I once heard, 'Death is but the next great adventure', not the end but another beginning."  
  
"Is this all real? It feels like it does." Timothy looked around. The office scene where he had seen his parents at work were gone, even the forest that was not quite clear to begin with started to dissolve as well. Only his uncle remained unchanged, and before long, they were standing in a white void. Timothy wasn't sure how to feel… only confused at all that had happened.  
  
"Someone once asked, 'what is real?' and no one could answer him. Can you answer that question?" his uncle looked at him, and as he did so, he began to dissolve as well.   
  
"Please don't go! I really don't know what to do!" Timothy panicked as he soon found himself alone in the white void.  
  
"Oh, little Timothy, you do know. Just be yourself. Goodbye, and just to let you know, I am so proud and honored that you carry on my name."  
  
The voice faded and Timothy began to feel the void begin to swirl with a violent surge of wind and cold. He shivered and closed his eyes…  
  
… and opened them, finding himself completely uncovered from his bed sheets and his curtains wide open. The window next to his bed was open as well, and the cold wind he had felt in his dream came, in reality, from the outside.  
  
It felt so real… I've never had a dream like that before. Timothy sat up, running everything through his mind. The forest, Summerray, the scene of his parents and the Circle of aurors… and his dead uncle whom he had never met before; they all had meaning, Timothy knew it. They were all trying to tell him the same thing: to get over his denial and accept his destiny. Even before the dream, he thought, John's vision was all about his quest. Summerray, in his dream, told him to "open his eyes" in her own unique way. The ghostly image of his dead uncle came to him to basically do the same thing- convince him that he had to face his fears and just try his best. Was it really his uncle? Or was it just an image of what Timothy thought of him to be?  
  
It was all so overwhelming. Timothy shakily got to his feet, shuffled to the window and closed it. In the maelstrom of thoughts in his mind, one single decision made itself clear:  
  
"If there is one place I know I can start looking, it's here at Hogwarts. The clues at least are somewhere in this castle… and I have a funny feeling that I'll find them when I least expect it." Timothy whispered out loud, crawling back into bed.  
  
He was so exhausted… his mind tired by conflicting thoughts… that sleep soon came up on him again. But not before his ears caught the sound of something sliding along the floor, yet he fell into the realm of sleep once more.   
  
  
For the next several days, Darian regarded both Timothy and John dispassionately and distantly, obviously upset at them for keeping such a secret from him. John seemed satisfied that Timothy finally told them about the crest, and wasn't the least bit put off at him for not telling anyone. In fact, he was troubled that he did tell, when the images he saw told him not to tell anyone. However, when Timothy explained the bizarrely real dream to him, John became heavily interested.  
  
"To be contacted by a dead person who's not a ghost is simply amazing!" John said as he, Timothy, and Darian were walking to potions later that week. "Professor Peacecraft gave me a book on psychological phenomenon, and there's a small section about just that in there. It's extraordinarily rare, Timothy!"  
  
"It won't happen again, my uncle said so in the dream." Timothy said.  
  
Darian simply pretended not to be interested, walking along side them silently. Timothy had put up with it without protest until then, not blaming him for his behavior, but as he heard Darian breath deeply through his nose in annoyance during the conversation… Timothy stopped dead and whirled in front of Darian's face.  
  
"I'm sorry, OK?! Why can't you understand that I couldn't tell anyone? That I can't tell my parents, or else they'll think I'm mentally ill and keep me home?"  
  
People in the hall began to slow down and stare. John shifted his weight from foot to foot worriedly as he looked around at the growing scene, Timothy and Darian locked in an intense glare.  
  
"Timothy, calm down… people are staring…" he warned.  
  
"You could have always told me! I wouldn't think your were nuts! Friends don't keep secrets." Darian hissed.  
  
Timothy's face hardened, but then as they said nothing more… the crowd silent around them, watching… Timothy's face fell and he looked at Darian helplessly.  
  
"If your own life, your family's life, and even the lives of everyone on Earth relied on you and you were told not to tell… you would keep it to yourself and no one else too." Timothy whispered.  
  
John grabbed their shoulders and looked at them both severely.  
  
"Stop acting stupid, both of you! Everyone is watching! Shut up, now!"  
  
The tardy bell rang, and the crowd of watching students suddenly sprang to life in fear of being late to class. Timothy and Darian didn't move, and John let out a sigh of exasperation. Finally, Darian's face softened and he looked at Timothy with a small friendly smile.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"I'm sorry, too." Timothy smiled back.  
  
"Good, we're all sorry! And we'll be even more sorry when we loose ten points each for Gryffindor by being late to Visser's class!" John threw up his arms and pulled both of his friends into the potions classroom hastily, all three of them smiling with relations back to normal.  
  
However, their faces fell in union once they saw the rest of the class. Everyone was looking at them, and more pointedly at Timothy. Professor Visser stood before them with a mixture of amusement and scolding, tapping his wand slowly on his shoulder while regarding all three of them.  
  
"Love life more important than your potions class, 'eh?" The large Russian teacher inquired, while the rest of the class snickered quietly. The Slytherins were beside themselves in glee at the confused and scared faces that Timothy, Darian, and John were wearing- even the Gryffindors stifled smiles.  
  
"E-excuse me, s-sir?" Timothy squeaked, totally confused.  
  
"The class tells me that you're having girl problems. As important as that may be for you, Mr. Potter, being on time for my class is the priority." Visser looked to Darian and John. "And you two as well, you can stop fighting over female territory. Really now, second years fighting over the opposite sex as if you were a lot of sixth years. You're too young! Now, go sit down before I no longer consider this a warning and deduct points."  
  
All three of them exchanged wide-eyed glances as they shuffled to their desks. Everyone was snickering now, and Timothy couldn't remember ever feeling more embarrassed. Darian was glaring at everyone angrily, appalled that those of their own house would go against them. John was all red and quiet, preferring not to look at anyone.  
  
It took a moment after the three of them sat down for the class to return to normal as Visser gave out instructions on the specific potion they were starting that day. Timothy got out his ingredients quietly, growing steadily angry toward Luna.  
  
Why did I have to be so stupid and talk to her? I should of left her in the alcove and walked out separately. Everyone still thinks that we have crushes on each other! And now they must think that Darian and I were fighting over her! He slammed his scales a little too hard on the desk.  
  
Darian was a little more outward about his feelings, mumbling something like: "All that stupid girl's fault! She's spreading rumors! Why I let you talk to her… why I oughta…" All while throwing spiders' legs and unicorn hoof shavings into his cauldron. John was the only one who looked calm, his gaze contemplating some mental conversation as he dropped his own ingredients into his cauldron.  
  
When the bell rang and they filed out of class, people continued to stare as they made their way outside for Herbology. Timothy dreaded every step, for they shared the class with the Hufflepuffs, and Luna was one of them.  
  
"Don't let me see her," Darian growled as they walked toward the greenhouses. "I just might hex her into a warthog."  
  
"Just ignore it," John sighed. "If we do, people will just let it go and forget about it. Besides, you don't know enough magic to hex anything into a warthog just yet."  
  
Darian and Timothy nodded, just as Bran and Ben walked by ahead of them.  
  
"Oh hey, Timothy! Going to invite your girlfriend to the team try-outs?" Bran laughed.  
  
Timothy scowled and John grabbed his shoulder as he began to take out his wand.  
  
"They're still upset at us for locking them out of the dorm. Let them blow off their immature steam and they'll come apologizing later, you'll see." John muttered, but he glared at them just as well.  
  
Darian was beside himself.  
  
"Just wait until I get my hands on their pillows. We'll just see how funny they think this all is after they find their heads on top of spiders in the middle of the night!"  
  
"Cool it, Darian. John's right. Let's just wait for the try-outs and we'll blow them out of the sky." Timothy smiled mischievously.  
  
"That's not exactly what I meant…" John said slowly.  
  
When they filed into the greenhouse, it was the Hufflepuffs' turn to stare and giggle. Timothy didn't trust himself to look for Luna as he got to his table with Darian and John beside him, he was afraid he'd try to hex her anyway. Professor Zan gave out the assignments then persisted to make his rounds as everyone began to work. Timothy, Darian, and John worked silently, looking at each other every now and then with rolling eyes. People whispered their names often, but they ignored it, becoming more intent on their work in an effort to block it all out. At one point, the whispering and giggling became louder, and just as Timothy slammed the polka-dotted plant they were working on into a planter, someone tapped his shoulder.  
  
"What?!" He shouted, making everyone fall silent instantly. Timothy's face blanched and flushed, as he looked at who it was that had tapped his shoulder. It was a tall girl he did not recognize, she must have been a Hufflepuff. She was trying very hard not to smile as she silently handed him a folded piece of parchment. When he slowly took it from her, looking around him with a dangerous glance should anyone say anything, the girl turned on her heel and walked away.  
  
"What's the matter? Get to work!" Professor Zan snapped, and everyone began to mutter and work again.  
  
"What is it?" Darian whispered into his ear as he helped him put potting soil in the planter.  
  
"I highly suggest, Timothy, that you don't open it here. Put it away." John muttered, looking around them as people stole curious glances.  
  
"Yeah," Timothy slipped the note into his robe pocket. "We need to find a place private to talk later anyway."  
  
To his relief, and notably to John's and Darian's as well, they did not see Luna at all. They continued to ignore everyone as they left class for lunch and decided to grab a quick sandwich and take them up to the common room. Fortunately, the common room was empty, and Timothy asked Hagrid to yell if anyone should come. While the portrait of Hagrid was suspicious, he agreed. When the entrance swung closed, Darian exploded.  
  
"I swear! The nerve of people! They think that that little tiff we had out in the hallway before potions was over Luna! Now, not only do they think Timothy has a crush on her, they think John and me do as well!  
  
"Shush!" John hissed, sitting down in an armchair. "Yes, Darian, that is what it appears. Like I said, give it time and it will all blow over. If you show you're upset about it, it will only reinforce their suspicions."  
  
Timothy sat down across from John, taking out the note.  
  
"We didn't really finish the discussion we had a few nights ago about my family crest and the visions." He looked pointedly at Darian, emphasizing that it was his anger toward them that prevented any earlier talks. He blushed, but said nothing.  
  
"I dunno, Timothy," John sighed. "I don't think there is much that we can do about it. I can ask Peacecraft, but you said you couldn't tell anyone. This stays between the three of us."  
  
"Well, right now, I'm more interested in that note you got." Darian pointed at Timothy's robe pocket. Timothy took it out and held it in the firelight that came from the mantle.  
  
"It's from Luna." John said.  
  
"No, really, you think?" Darian rolled his eyes at him with a sarcastic tone.  
  
"Guys…" Timothy chided, unfolding the note. The three of them leaned in as Timothy read the scribbled handwriting:  
  
This is not my fault. So don't be mad at me.  
Luna  
  
"That's it? That's all she wrote? Of course it's her fault! I expected a memo of apology!" Darian snorted.  
  
"But it isn't her fault." John leaned back in his chair.  
  
"Oh, yes it is! Don't you remember? She practically fainted every time she looked at Timothy last year. Before that thing with Smith, she worshipped his very name! This is all her doing, she has a crush!" Darian paced the room.  
  
Timothy re-folded the note, then decided to throw it into the fire. He did so, and watched as the paper crumpled into ashes.  
  
"I believe her, but that doesn't make me any less annoyed. The less I see her the better." Timothy muttered.  
  
"How do you she's not prompting all this?" Darian asked him severely. Timothy countered his expression.  
  
"She's changed, Darian. Think about it. She's no longer the groveling little girl from last year. Now's she's just a lost little girl, with a great hurt inside… her parents were murdered and she almost was as well. In a way, she was responsible, because obviously it was Malfoy's doing and he was punishing her family for the failure in capturing me. Now she lives with a grandmother who hates her guts. I don't like her any more than you do, but I don't think she's spreading around rumors and I don't think she feels that way… at least not anymore. Let's drop this now, OK? I have more important things to worry about than girls."  
  
John and Darian looked at him, stunned. Timothy blushed slightly and looked away, surprised at himself for defending Luna like that. He didn't even realize that, in a way, he still felt guilty and sorry for her… and it angered him even more that he did so.  
  
"Whoa, Timothy, I think you're hanging around John too much. You sound so… so… dramatic." Darian whispered in awe.  
  
"Timothy's right," John insisted. "Enough of this Luna business, we have to help him with this crest. I have a feeling he can't ignore it anymore and he needs to find it soon. With my persistent visions and his conversation with his dead uncle," Darian let out a snort. "He needs to find it soon."  
  
They all looked at each other and didn't say anything for a few moments. Timothy wondered if his friends knew just how difficult this task was; that to just "find it" is a lot easier said than done. How on Earth was he supposed to do this while in school? What were the odds that the crest was in the castle? It could be anywhere!  
  
Darian sat down and put his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his palms. John stared at the fire, his gaze showing intense thought. Timothy merely watched them both, eager for any suggestion.  
  
"You said that your ancestor was friends with Godric Gryffindor, and that it was him that made the crest to ward off evil, correct?" John asked without taking his eyes off the fire.  
  
"Yes." Timothy answered quietly.  
  
"Well, naturally as you may have already guessed, we should start looking in the castle."  
  
"Where else would we be able to look?" Darian muttered sarcastically.  
  
John blushed slightly but made no comment.  
  
"But where to start?" Timothy mused out loud.  
  
"Check the library. You never know if there is anything written about the crest." John said.  
  
For the first time in a while Timothy saw hope.  
  
"Right! Of course! Perfect!"  
  
"I'm sorry, but I'm not too partial to bookwork." Darian grumbled.  
  
"Oh, quit your bellyaching. You could look up books on Quidditch while we work… need to improve those skills, don't we Darian?" Timothy teased.   
  
Darian glared at them both when John and Timothy began to giggle. He regally got to his feet and marched to the common room exit.  
  
"I'll show you just how good of a research officer I can be," he looked back at them dignified. However, his face fell slightly as he looked toward the spiral staircase leading up to the boys' dormitories. "What's that?"  
  
Timothy and John looked to where he was staring, but couldn't see anything.  
  
"What's what?"  
  
"I don't see anything."   
  
Darian had a suspicious expression, but he shrugged and turned to open the portrait hole. Slightly puzzled, Timothy and John followed.  
  
To their frustration, the bell rang signaling afternoon classes rang before they reached the library, and they had to re-plan to visit after school. Much to their relief, the rest of the day went without little attention over the subject of Luna, and the topic was temporarily forgotten. However, the only thing that bothered Timothy was the constant chatter over Quidditch try-outs, and how people were practicing in their free time to prepare.  
  
"Let's think about this, Timothy," Darian said as they walked to dinner at the end of the day. "Is this… this… assignment you have so important that it needs to be taken care of now, or can you just put it aside for a week or two until after the Quidditch try-outs?"  
  
"Darian…" John started, but Darian persisted.  
  
"I mean, we need the practice if we have hopes of beating practically the entire house, you know? Of course you shouldn't be worried about making it, you're very good, but even the greats have to practice every once and a while."  
  
Before Timothy could say anything and John could object further, a sneering voice broke out over them from behind.  
  
"Think you're too good to practice now, are you?"  
  
Slowly, the three of them turned around to look at Carla Haughton, flanked by her equally sneering brother, Sean.  
  
"What would you know, Haughton?" Darian growled. "You wouldn't be able to play Quidditch if you're life depended on it."  
  
Carla crossed her arms and scowled.  
  
"Going to spell-o-tape yourself to Potter there, Hall? They say two airheads fly better than one, you know."  
  
"Oh, don't you have anything better to do than to berate people?" John rolled his eyes impatiently.  
  
Carla smiled and laughed through her nose, stopping a moment to elbow her brother to join her when she noticed he was staring at a suit of armor instead.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I do. I'd say I'm using my time wisely by practicing, wouldn't you agree? Oh, sorry, that's right… you're too good to practice for the try-outs."  
  
Timothy felt sick as she brushed past them mockingly.  
  
"You're trying out for the Slytherin team?" Timothy blurted out stupidly.  
  
Carla turned back and smiled crudely at them.  
  
"That would be my house, now wouldn't it?"  
  
Timothy moaned to himself at the thought of competing against her in a game should he make his own team. Darian opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't get it out. John simply stared without emotion.  
  
Carla laughed, grabbing her brother roughly and pushing him ahead of her into the Great Hall. Before they got her completely out of their sight when they sat down at the Gryffindor table, she called out,  
  
"Better not fly into the scout, wouldn't want to disgrace the all-mighty Gryffindors!"  
  
"Scout?" Both Timothy and Darian said aloud. Bran, who was sitting across from them, nodded as he loaded his plate.  
  
"Yep, haven't you heard? A talent scout is coming to Hogwarts the day of the try-outs to get a figure on how well the teams are gonna be this year."  
  
"Talent scout!" Darian got excited, forgetting the earlier hostility between them and Bran, along with the rest of their dorm mates. "From where? The professionals?"  
  
"Dunno," Bran mused as he chewed his dinner. "All I heard that it was a talent scout."  
  
"Well in that case, we should do some practicing." Timothy began to grow excited.  
  
"Would be wise," Bran looked at him, before turning slightly pink. "Er… sorry about earlier. It was stupid of me, the others feel the same too."  
  
"No problem," Timothy smiled, eager to get back on friendly terms. "Are you going to be with the team at try-outs?"  
  
"Of course. I'm one of the team, I get to help with the decision." Bran smiled back.  
  
"Well, just be sure to judge fairly this year." Darian mumbled.  
  
"It wasn't my fault…" Bran started, beginning to frown.  
  
"Oh wow, look at the time. Hey, Timothy, Darian, we should get started on that paper that's due in the library right now." John said loudly, getting to his feet before another argument could break out.  
  
"Erm, yeah… right." Timothy followed him, grabbing Darian's arm before he could say anything. Bran simply blinked and shrugged, continuing to eat.  
  
"But, John, I'm still hungry!" Darian whined as they searched the enormous shelves of the library ten minutes later.  
  
"Oh, shut up, Darian." Timothy and John said in union.  
  
"We oughta be practicing right now, Timothy." Darian grumbled a moment afterward as they began to pull huge volumes of history texts from the shelves.  
  
"Later…" Timothy muttered absentmindedly as he found a table and sat down, fingering through pages.  
  
"John, this is your fault." Darian pointed a severe finger at John as he pulled a distinctly moldy smelling book entitled Ancient Quests & How to Solve Them.  
  
"You fail to realize the severity of this situation, Darian, which is not surprising since it doesn't concern your sports life." John said airily.   
  
"How hard could it be to find-?"  
  
"Shhhh!" Timothy and John snapped at him.  
  
"Darian, shut your trap and help us!" Timothy hissed.  
  
Reluctantly and looking very put off, Darian snatched a book from John's pile and started flipping through.  
  
"What exactly is it that I'm looking for?"  
  
"Don't act stupid," John muttered. "Just look for 'Potter' and 'crest'." He whispered the last few words carefully.  
  
For an hour they searched. Timothy came upon countless articles about his father and the first falling of Lord Voldemort when he was a baby, to when his parents caused his final demise. There was even a page in which they showed his parents with himself at eight years old and his sister at three. His parents were proudly wearing their medals bearing the Order of Merlin, First Class. Timothy stopped and stared at the moving photo; his parents beaming shyly, his sister cooing in their mother's arms and himself looking innocently up at the medals his parents wore. He could remember when they had gotten home that day and he watched as his father placed their medals in a hutch that kept their most precious keepsakes in the sitting room.  
  
"Dad?" he had said, standing on his toes to watch his father put the medals on a glass shelf. "Did your parents ever get this much medals?"  
  
Timothy could remember his father's face, and before then he couldn't remember his father ever crying, but there was a tear in the corner of his eye as he shook his head slowly.  
  
"I don't know, I've never asked."  
  
Concerned at his father, Timothy gently hung on to his arm.  
  
"Did they get the Merlin medal too, do you know?"  
  
Timothy remembered how long it seemed for his father to answer, and when he finally looked at him with a sad smile, Timothy knew that he missed his own parents- and that only made Timothy more grateful that he had his own.  
  
"In a way, they did, Timothy. If they didn't have one then, they have one now."  
  
The memory hung around in Timothy's mind as he continued to flip the pages of the history book. Both John and Darian were silent, now intent on the search. However, when three hours had passed, they came up empty.  
  
"I have learned more about your family than maybe you even know, Timothy… but I found nothing on what it is we're looking for." Darian pushed the last book in his pile away and leaned back in his chair.  
  
"I'm afraid I had no luck either." John sighed, closing his book.  
  
"Maybe we're just not looking in the right books." Timothy yawned.  
  
"Oh, c'mon, these books contain the entire history of the world, it seems!" Darian exclaimed.  
  
"Let's call it a night, guys. We've done enough for one day." John got up and began to gather all the books to put away. Somewhat reluctantly and disappointed, Timothy helped him and Darian joined in soon after.  
  
  
In the two weeks leading up to the 29th of September, they hadn't returned to the library. Instead, Darian was insistent that he and Timothy train for the Quidditch try-outs. It was now more important than ever to do their best, with the talent scout coming and all. John was not pleased, trying to convince Timothy that his quest was top priority and that they should be doing all they could at that time to solve the problem. But Darian's encouraging words of Quidditch glory won him over, and he found himself flying with his Dragonsfire 800 and Darian over the grounds after school hours. John soon gave up on them and spent his time while they practiced with Professor Peacecraft.  
  
On the morning of the 29th, Timothy could hardly contain his excitement. His parents, especially his father, would no doubt be immensely proud of him if he should make the team. So confident he was that he was going to make it, Timothy decided to send Windstone with an early letter to tell them just how much he had prepared for that day. The whole of Gryffindor was buzzing and alive with equal excitement, and Darian had a hard time keeping himself back at not challenging others in their faces over who was going to make it.  
  
It was hard for everyone to keep still that day during classes. The try-outs were scheduled separately for each house, and Gryffindor ended up being scheduled last because Walters slept in too late and was last to sign the house up.  
  
"How that idiot got elected team captain is a question the human race may never know." Darian muttered in exasperation.  
  
"We can't see him like that if we're going to be under his command, Darian. It'll take the fun out of the game." Timothy reminded him.  
  
"Thank you, oh great wise one, you have opened my eyes and I feel my attitude changing with your words of wisdom." Darian cried sarcastically.  
  
"If you two are finished, we have transfiguration to go through now." John rolled his eyes.  
  
Professor Miller was all too aware of the excitement in the air surrounding the try-outs, and gave them little work to do. In Professor Visser's class, those trying out for Slytherin were called, and Carla sneered at Timothy as she left the room. Her brother wasn't trying out, but somehow he had managed to be allowed to go watch. Darian growled under his breath that Carla would catch a headwind and get blown out of the country. As wonderful a thought that it was, Timothy dreaded that it would be just his luck that Carla made the Slytherin team.  
  
It wasn't until the last class for that day, Defense Against Dark Creatures, that Gryffindor was finally called. Lupin gave Timothy an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he left with nearly every other Gryffindor in the class.  
  
"Just be yourself." Lupin whispered in his ear and he gave him a warm smile as the group left the classroom.  
  
Afraid that he was going to fall over with excitement and nerves, Timothy got his broom with the other second years from his dorm room and followed everyone outside with Darian practically bouncing on his heels beside him.  
  
"Thank God dad got me a new broom," Darian said breathlessly, holding up his brand new broom labeled Starshooter on the handle. "This year is going to be a lot different!"  
  
Timothy held his Dragonsfire 800 close to him, remembering the endless times he had played with his father, pretending to be professional players in the Quidditch World Cup. His father had the chance to play professionally when he graduated Hogwarts, but because of Voldemort and Timothy's mother, he turned it down. Timothy was determined to live up to him this much by making the team this year.  
  
When they reached the Quidditch pitch, the whole of Gryffindor house seemed to be there. People lined up along the field while Timothy could see the current team members analyzing each person. Growing steadily more nervous, surprised even since he had already gone through a try-out session the previous year, Timothy and Darian fell into the line. When everyone was in place, the adults addressed the potential players.  
  
"Welcome to this year's Quidditch try-outs." Professor Miller announced, for he was head of Gryffindor. "I hope that all of you will play fairly and honestly. While I'm sure each of you are fine flyers and players, only two people today will make the team. Whatever the outcome, I hope that you'll support your house like true Gryffindors!"  
  
Everyone erupted into cheers while Professor Mali, the Quidditch coach, stepped forward to have her say. When everyone quieted, her authoritative filled the pitch.  
  
"I hope all of you are aware of the rules! This is how the try-outs will be done. A large number of Quaffles and Bludgers will be up on the field, and each one of you will hit as many Quaffles as you can through the goals while avoiding the Bludgers. There will be two Snitches as well, and if anyone can catch one of them within two hour's time the session will be off. Afterwards, if need be, certain selected individuals will be chosen to be judged separately. Alright then? When I blow my whistle, mount and the session will begin! Ready? Go!"  
  
Timothy sprang to life at the sound of the whistle. He was in the air faster than anyone else, yet closely flanked by Darian. With friendly nods they went their separate ways, Timothy going after a nearby Quaffle and Darian avoiding a Bludger.  
  
There were people everywhere, some flying better than others. Timothy applied all his knowledge of the game and the tips his father had taught him when he was smaller- nothing could break his concentration, not even the family crest. All that he could think of was the scarlet colored balls getting through the golden hoops and the gray Bludgers narrowly missing his head.   
  
After thirty minutes, Timothy had made nineteen goals. Darian was close behind with seventeen, but Timothy couldn't allow his concentration to break with congratulations. He was about to make his twentieth, when something small and gold caught his eye.  
  
There it was, hovering near the grass undiscovered by all the other students preoccupied with making goals with the Quaffles. The golden Snitch with it's beating little white wings was now in Timothy's full view. Remembering his father's stories about the many ways in which he caught the Snitch as Gryffindor's seeker, Timothy tried hard to pretend he hadn't seen it. Instead, he pursued a Quaffle that was low to the ground and, at the last second before he reached the ball, zoomed to the side and caught the Snitch!  
  
Professor Mali's whistle shrilled over the pitch, and everyone began to land. Instantly the air was filled with chatter:  
  
"Who caught it?"  
  
"Where's the Snitch?"  
  
"I think I swallowed a bug."  
  
Timothy struggled to keep the frantically beating Snitch in his hands as Darian nearly flew into him.  
  
"You caught it!" he shouted.  
  
Everyone turned in their direction.  
  
"Timothy Potter has it!"  
  
"No surprise there, his dad was seeker."  
  
Professor Mali made her way through the crowd and beamed down at Timothy.  
  
"Well done! There hasn't been a record like that since your father was here! Congratulations, Timothy."  
  
"Thank you, Professor." Timothy blushed as he handed her the Snitch. Never before had he ever felt more proud of himself.  
  
"Like I said, buddy," Darian whispered in his ear as everyone began to walk toward the bleachers. "Piece of cake!"  
  
The students began to fill the bleachers and sit down for further instructions. Now that everyone had a chance to be seen, unless the team already picked the two new players, selected people would be judged individually to narrow down the choices. Timothy and Darian found empty seats and sat down with the rest as the Gryffindor team, Professor Miller, and Professor Mali positioned themselves in front of the crowd.  
  
"Hey, you know what I just realized?" Darian began.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Where's the talent scout we heard about?"  
  
Timothy blinked and searched the field. The only adults there were Miller and Mali. Unless the talent scout was watching from a secret location, he wasn't there. Then he realized that he didn't even know if the scout was a man or a woman.  
  
"All of you did wonderfully! The team, Professor Miller, and I all watched you carefully. We have put together a list of finalists that we will consider to join the team. Now, please, in a calm and civilized manner, check for your name on the list here on the field." Mali called out. However, the request for a calm and civilized crowd to look at one list was a futile one, for when she had uttered her last word the bleachers began to pour students.  
  
"Let's wait 'till the crowd clears." Timothy suggested, but Darian couldn't wait.  
  
"I have to know! I have to know!"  
  
Timothy shook his head as Darian barreled through people and fought his way to the list. He was surprised at how calm he was and figured Darian would tell him if he was on the list or not. Something inside of him told him that there was no need to worry that he wasn't.  
  
Sure enough, all pink in the face with excitement, Darian fought his way through elated and disappointed students back to Timothy.  
  
"We MADE IT! WE MADE IT!" He lifted Timothy clear off his seat and hugged him. At one point he twirled him around and Timothy's flailing limbs nearly knocked a nearby first year tumbling down the stairs.  
  
"Sorry!" He called out as the boy screamed and cursed.  
  
When the din of voices began to lower, Professor Mali made herself heard once more.  
  
"Those of you who are not on the list, we thank you for trying out and doing your best. Please, at this time, those not listed need to return to the castle. All of you who did make it, please come down to the field."  
  
Nearly the entire crowd began to flow out of the pitch, and Timothy and Darian excitedly made their way back onto the field. When the last person had left, they both were standing next to eight other students. Timothy recognized two fifth year girls by sight. There were three sixth year boys who were grinning at Walters out on the field, obviously thinking they had a better chance since they were friends. Finally, there were two fourth year boys and one fourth year girl at the end of the line. The current team members lined up parallel in front of them, Bran giving Timothy and Darian a small smile. Both Miller and Mali walked up and down the line, inspecting each student.  
  
"When your name is called," Mali announced finally. "You'll have three minutes to mount your broom, launch, and make as many goals with the Quaffles that you can. There will be two Bludgers, just like in an official game, so avoid them. Also, within the three minutes, if you see the Snitch you may catch it. Does everyone understand?"  
  
"Yes!" Came the unanimous reply.  
  
"Alright then. Adobe Carter, you're up!"  
  
One of the sixth year boys leapt onto his broom and zoomed into the air. He seemed to be twice Timothy's size, and he began to pelt Quaffles left and right. However, his bulk was more of a disadvantage, for it was harder for him to maneuver. It was more than obvious, for he had suddenly spotted the Snitch, and bolted after it. Timothy was sure he wouldn't be a good seeker if he chased after the Snitch that way, and he was too large and bulky to be very fast. At the end of the three minutes, he had spent the first minute making 13 points with the Quaffles, and the rest of the time fruitlessly chasing the Snitch, which disappeared before he could catch it.  
  
The group clapped politely as he landed, and Professor Mali called "Harold Harrington" to the sky. Timothy watched the fourth year perform slightly better than his older predecessor, making judgement on if he would be a top choice to be picked. Darian, the whole time, tapped his foot in both nervousness and impatience. He suddenly jumped, however, when someone laid a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Hey guys, how's it going?"  
  
Timothy turned and smiled to see John. The expression his friend was wearing was puzzling, for it was a mixture of weariness, suspicion, and masked excitement.  
  
"Merlin's beard! You scared the living daylights out of me, Too Tall!" Darian looked faint.  
  
"I'm surprised they let you in." Timothy mentioned, trying to hide his concern over John's expression.  
  
"Got a pass from Peacecraft," John held up a figure of a gargoyle. "She… er, thought I should be here to support you and I agreed."  
  
Timothy raised his eyebrows but said nothing. John had used that tone before, when he knew something. Timothy knew better not to ask, knowing he wouldn't get an answer- at least not right away.  
  
"Thanks," he said anyway. "We're gonna need it."  
  
"Is the competition as tough as they said?" John shoved his hands in his pockets and watched as Harold made at futile dive at the Snitch, which flew away before he got close.   
  
"I'll admit, it was scary having to compete with nearly the whole house." Darian said breathlessly, still rubbing his chest to gain back his composure.  
  
"So far, I don't think we have anyone to really worry about." Timothy said, giving his attention back to Harold as he flew down when the whistle blew.  
  
"Darian Hall!" cried Mali.  
  
"That's me!" Darian fumbled with his broom and made a hairy take off, but managed to pull himself together and began to attack the Quaffles. Timothy and John watched with equal tension as Darian quickly made 15 points within a minute and a half. For as long as Timothy had played Quidditch one on one with Darian, he knew that catching the Snitch just wasn't his strongest point. He willed vainly as he watched his friend fly that he wouldn't go after the Snitch- he was too broad shouldered and square to go really fast to catch the elusive ball.  
  
Darian dodged the Bludgers easily, making another five points in 30 seconds. Timothy could just see his broadly smiling and confident face as he made another spectacular goal.  
  
Good, Timothy thought, just don't catch the Snitch! Ignore it! Don't catch the Snitch!  
  
But much to his despair, he saw Darian stop his broom so suddenly he nearly fell over face first. Timothy searched the field and saw the golden Snitch hovering just under on of the golden hoop goal posts.  
  
"No!" Timothy cried, hearing another person yell the same cry and realized John had noticed too.  
  
It was useless, Darian couldn't hear them. Using a technique that Timothy commonly used having been taught by his father, Darian flattened himself out on his broom and flew at top speed toward the tiny golden ball. Timothy groaned, hoping that this observed trick would help Darian. It even seemed like he was going to make it, and Timothy grabbed John's arm as he strained his eyes to see across the field through his glasses. They both held their breaths as Darian got closer and closer… nearly there.  
  
"He's gonna do it!" Timothy whispered loudly.  
  
"I dunno…" John's voice doubted.  
  
"No, no, it really looks like it!"  
  
"He's going too fast!"  
  
"Slow down, Darian, slow down!" Timothy cried, realizing John was right.  
  
"He's gonna hit-!"  
  
BAAAAAAAANNNNNNNGGGGGGG!  
  
"-the goal post."  
  
Horrified, Timothy and John cringed as Darian missed the Snitch at the last moment and couldn't slow down, flying headlong into the goal post near the base.  
  
There was a unanimous "Oooooh!" and painful expressions from the other students, and both Miller and Mali mounted brooms and flew across to Darian who was lying dazedly in the grass. Timothy didn't hesitate to mount his own broom to go to him, and turned to John to offer him a lift. But John shook his head quickly, and Timothy remembered with an embarrassed nod that John was allergic to brooms. But before Timothy could turn around to leave, Mali and Miller had already returned with Darian clinging to Miller's back on his broom with a far off look.  
  
"Darian! Are you alright?" Timothy helped Darian half-climb, half-fall from Miller's broom.  
  
"I'd like to buy a vowel!" Darian swooned on his feet, Timothy jumping off his own broom to help him stand.  
  
"What did he mean by that?" Timothy whispered concernedly at John, who shrugged back at him, clueless.  
  
"He'll be alright, he just bumped his head, that's all." Mali reassured them as he handed John Darian's broom, in which John gave a short sneeze. "Bless you."  
  
"Eh… thank you." John muttered, hastily placing the broom on a bleacher with a disgusted look.  
  
"Just as well, he should go see his mother in the hospital wing." Miller advised.  
  
"Oh, but mom, I don't want to eat the pink elephant!" Darian cried out suddenly.  
  
Everyone blinked at him and stared.  
  
"I'll take him." Timothy made up his mind, putting an arm around Darian when he began to stumble again.  
  
"But, Timothy, what about the try-outs? You'll miss your turn!" Bran called out when the team had assembled closer to see what was going on.  
  
Timothy glanced at John, expecting him to offer, but he said nothing. The look in his eyes gave him a strange feeling that John wanted this all to happen, and that Timothy should take Darian to the hospital wing. When Darian began to mumble something about "is that your final answer?" Timothy couldn't let one of his best friends down. He'd just let the rest of the group go ahead of him while he quickly took Darian to see his mother. Certainly he'd make it back in time.  
  
"Oh, but I have already chosen the two new players." Came a smooth, strangely accented voice.  
  
Everyone turned around to see a tall, dark haired and beautiful woman dressed in very fashionable robes coming striding over the grass in her red pumps. There didn't seem to be any visible flaw with this woman; she was simply, perfect. Timothy glanced at his professors for any clue as to who this woman was. Miller's jaw had relaxed fully, and if he wasn't careful, he'd drool. However, Mali's expression was of cool indifference. The tough Quidditch coach crossed her arms and tapped her wand on her side.  
  
"With all due respect, Ms. Tuvok, the current team members have the vote as to who will be admitted to the team."  
  
Timothy gasped in realization that this woman named Tuvok was, in fact, the Quidditch talent scout! Never would he have guessed that his dressed up aristocrat would spend her career outside for a sport!  
  
"The players I have chosen, I'm sure your players will greatly consider, Professor Mali." Her accent was Russian, Timothy recognized.  
  
"Oh?" Mali furrowed her brow.  
  
"Dear Mr. Walters, come forward please." Tuvok turned to the sixth year captain. His eyes were wide and that of an obedient dog, looking up at her eagerly. Timothy had to keep from laughing at the older boy's expression, and looked at everyone else. The rest of the students trying out had a mix of wonder, suspicion, and awe. Then Timothy glanced at John, and his expression made Timothy do a double take.   
  
John's eyes were narrowed almost to slits, directed at Tuvok. He was frowning in what was almost a scowl. Timothy looked all around to see if he was mistaken that John was looking at Tuvok, but there was no doubt he was.  
  
"John, what's wrong?" Timothy whispered.  
  
John didn't seem to hear, didn't notice him at all. Timothy was about to ask again, when Tuvok's voice spoke loudly.  
  
"Of all who stand here, in your honest opinion as captain, tell us who you think would be valuable additions to your team."  
  
It looked difficult for Walters to tear his gaze away from the beautiful woman's face, but he looked anyway and stared down each of the possible players.  
  
"So far, Harrington, most likely. But Potter is my first choice."  
  
Timothy wasn't surprised at Walters' response, and the interested look Tuvok gave seemed forced.  
  
"And why do you say Mr. Potter, when he hasn't performed individually yet?" She asked him smoothly.  
  
"He's the best I've seen, and his father was a legend at Hogwarts." Walters was staring back at Tuvok again.  
  
The rest of the group shuffled their feet and grumbled discontentedly, glaring at Timothy out of the corner of their eyes. He paid them no mind, still holding on to a reeling Darian and watching the talent scout carefully.  
  
"I agree fully with you, Mr. Walters. Mr. Potter is indeed the wisest choice, and one of mine. Now, what about the second and last player? Is Harrington your second choice?" Tuvok gave him a mesmerizing smile.  
  
"Yeah," Walters sighed dreamily. "Ma'am." He added a moment after.  
  
"On this choice, my boy, I'll have to disagree." Tuvok looked at everyone.  
  
"But Ms. Tuvok, he can't make a final decision yet! We haven't seen everyone, and it has to be put to a vote!" spoke up Jane Neeks, one of the chasers.  
  
Tuvok smiled and began to pace in front of everyone. Miller was still stuck in his male stupor and Mali continued to glare at the imposing female, it seemed. All the other possible players had begun to grow fearful that the choice was already made and that they hadn't made it. John was still glowering at the woman as if she were dangerous, and Timothy could only stare bewildered as he held on to Darian's arm.  
  
"You fail to see what makes the most valuable player. The one who risks everything against the odds to win. I saw one candidate demonstrate this trait in it's entirety, and I'm quite disappointed that you have overlooked him." Tuvok said, her pace slowing down until she stopped in front of Timothy. No… in front of Darian.  
  
"Darian Hall?" Walters seemed to snap out of his daze. "But… but he flew into the goal post! I mean, look at him! He's delirious!"  
  
"Price check on prune juice, Bob, price check on prune juice!" Darian sputtered. Timothy blushed, embarrassed for him and yet completely surprised at the same time that Tuvok would choose him after what had just happened!   
  
"All for the sake of the win, Mr. Walters. He was willing to go all out to catch the prized Snitch, even though he must of known he wouldn't be able to do it. But he tried anyway. That, my young captain, is a true team member." Tuvok turned back to the current team members.  
  
"Now, I say you cast a vote now."  
  
The girl players opened their mouths to object, but the three boys nodded.  
  
"All in favor of Potter and Hall, say 'I'!" Walters called out.  
  
Instantly, the three boys raised their hands. The girls exchanged exasperated and dubious looks, but raised their hands anyway. Timothy nearly fell over.   
  
I made it! We made it! I made it on the Gryffindor team!  
  
Tuvok smiled broadly as the remaining candidates groaned loudly and began to leave. Timothy could hardly believe it! Sure, he felt immensely confident that he would get in… but to actually know that he did? And Darian too! For sure, his best friend's unfortunate run-in with the goal post would keep him from the team. But this talent scout saw some sort of promise out of it. They both made it!  
  
"Practice is every Tuesday and Thursday after school, you guys." Walters said to them as the team began to leave. He gave a dreamy glance and nod to Ms. Tuvok, and left himself. Timothy was so shocked with happiness that it took a while to realize that John was tugging at his shoulder.  
  
"Let's go, Timothy, let's go." He said urgently.  
  
Timothy was too caught up in his excited thoughts to react to John's strange dire urge to get away. Perhaps it was just Darian, who stumbled along their strides sloppily, continuing to mutter about pink elephants. When they reached the exit, Timothy got his mind long enough to turn and thank Tuvok, but when he did… she was gone. Mali had dragged Miller out of the pitch with the rest of the students long before, so the field was empty.  
  
"This is the happiest day of my life!" Timothy sighed contently as they walked toward the castle.  
  
"Timothy, I beg to differ." John said distantly, and didn't expand on his meaning.  
  
"Oh say, can you see! By the dawn's early light…!" Darian began to cry.  
  
"Darian, you're not an American." John hissed.  
  
"Oh… right." It was the first competent thing Darian said since the accident.  
  
"Nothing could make this day more great!" Timothy sighed, obliviously.  
  
"You're right," John muttered. "'Cause it's definitely not going to get better after I tell you…"  
  
"Tell me what?" Timothy snapped out of his bliss at John's rarely vain tone.  
  
"O' Canada! O' Canada!"  
  
"Darian! SHUT UP!"  
  
  
  
A/N: I'm sorry if the beginning was confusing and if ending was too rushed. In the beginning, I sorta got bored and moved on to what I wanted to write- and the end happened the same way. ::blushes and shrugs:: School has a passion to want to kill me, social life claims more time than I ever imagined, and energy just doesn't seem to want to come to me. ::sigh:: Well, make life a little happier and REVIEW! Paahhhleeeeaaaassseee? Not that I'm begging or anything...::thinks a moment:: OK, maybe I am.  
  
See a newly updated reading list and a new drawing at Renee's site!  
HTTP://WWW.THEWORLDOFRENEEPOTTER.DISNEYFANSITES.COM  
I update it as much as possible, so if authoralerts don't work, check the site for I always update it with news on the chapters.  
  
What does the future hold? Will Darian snap back to reality? What is John's issue with the seductive Quidditch talent scout? Why did she pick DARIAN, any how? Does this have anything to do with... dun dun dunnnn... Timothy's quest?! I'll tell ya this much... yeah. ::evil giggle:: You'll never guess what happens! I promise a wonderful literary surprise! It all begins with CHAPTER 7! ::dramatic music plays & thunder claps::  
  
~OrcaPotter 


	7. Foretelling

A/N: Please review! Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Chapter Seven: Foretelling   
  
  
Timothy stumbled into the hospital wing with Darian, still murmuring about pink elephants singing the Star Spangled Banner, as John brought up the rear with his grim expression. Mrs. Hall was beside herself when she saw Darian, immediately setting him up in a bed and checking him over. She didn't even look up at Timothy and John, only calling over her shoulder:  
  
"Quidditch is a horrendous sport! Oh, my poor, poor Dari! You could have been killed! Thank you for bringing him here, I can only imagine himself not wanting to. Go now, he needs his rest!"  
  
Timothy was only too eager to hear what John had to say, and satisfied that his other best friend would be well taken care of, they left the hospital wing. John, to Timothy's surprise, steered him suddenly into an empty classroom and quickly performed a locking spell on the door.  
  
"John, what's wrong with you?" Timothy was quietly baffled.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with me, I can tell ya that much." John said quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets.  
  
"Then can you tell me why you are so spazzed out? Why were you looking at the talent scout as if she were a convicted murderer?" Timothy crossed his arms.  
  
"She's not what she seems." John whispered, standing just in front of Timothy, looking down at him. Timothy's nose reached his chin, and seeing his normally passive friend using his uncharacteristically tall stature to emphasize his conflict made Timothy gulp.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean exactly what I said. She's not what she seems. My gut tells me that this 'Tuvok' woman is not a talent scout at all." John whispered.  
  
"What makes you say that?" Timothy stared at him, but then cocked his head as he realized: "Oh. I keep forgetting that you can-."  
  
"That's just it," John interrupted, shaking his head. "I can't! When I'm near a person, I get vibes… I get feelings and emotions. Peacecraft has trained me to keep all this information coming at me under control. I'm able now to turn down the intensity, plainly speaking, so that it's not overwhelming. But I still get all that information… but here's the thing that's bothering me: I couldn't feel anything from her at all."  
  
"So what are you saying? That Ms. Tuvok is not alive or something like that?" Timothy wasn't sure he was following.  
  
John shook his head and he looked away, his face set in concentration.  
  
"She's definitely alive. So, there's only one explanation on why I couldn't feel anything from her. She's set up a mental shield."  
  
"What?"  
  
"A mental shield. She's deliberately blocking out anyone from sensing her vibes, emotions, and feelings."  
  
"Why would she be doing that?" Timothy asked, halfway between skeptical and believing.  
  
"Because," John looked back at him, "She knows that there are empaths around her. She's hiding something."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Because she's an empath herself." John whispered.  
  
Timothy wasn't sure what to think.  
  
"How do you…?"  
  
John laughed briefly and looked at Timothy with surprise.  
  
"Only empaths can block their feelings so easily! And of course, only other empaths can sense this. It's stupid, really, to block your vibes and such when other empaths can tell."  
  
Timothy blushed, realizing that that was a stupid question to ask. To hide his face, he went to the classroom window and looked out. He could see the Quidditch pitch from there, and with the setting sun it looked wonderful. John came to stand beside him and they watched in silence. His discovery and his reaction to it bothered Timothy to the core- it could only mean one thing:  
  
"This has something to do about my family crest, doesn't it." He said rhetorically.  
  
John let out a deep breath through his nose and said nothing for a while, continuing to watch the window.  
  
"To be honest, Timothy, I don't know enough to be entirely sure."  
  
Timothy looked hard at him.  
  
"What is she hiding?"  
  
"Whatever it is, it's not good. Why else would she block her mental output?" John shrugged, but he looked deeply troubled.  
  
"Don't worry John, this is my problem. You don't have to get any more involved than you already are. This is my quest, and it appears I have to do this on my own." Timothy put a hand on John's shoulder.  
  
"Don't be stupid, I'm your friend. Friends stick together no matter what. Besides, it's not like I can ignore it- the vision keeps coming at me. Nor can I ignore your inner despair."  
  
Timothy smirked, looking away.  
  
"Inner despair… yeah, right. How 'bout, inner clueless? I have no idea what to do, and I've had so many clues it's not even funny. John, I'm not my parents… how can I possibly do this? Why is it that only the Potter family has to save the world? Huh? Why can't someone else have a go at it this time and give my generation a break? I mean, think about it- evil wizards has gotten soo cliché. You'd think by now all the bad guys would get the hint that evil can't prevail 'cause good always does!"  
  
"It's not that simple." John blinked slowly.  
  
Timothy sighed, resting his elbows on the windowsill. He shook his head as he watched some teachers cross the grounds from the Quidditch pitch to the castle.  
  
"Yeah… I know. But why me? I bet you Kalina could figure this all out so fast that there would be enough time to spare for her to throw a tea party for all her stuffed animals before bedtime."  
  
"I don't think she's that bright. Perhaps, Timothy, our search does not begin with the castle- but with Ms. Tuvok." John said.  
  
"And how do you propose we go about doing that, hmm?"   
  
"Catch her off guard." John said sneakily.  
  
"Wonderful," Timothy muttered, looking out the window with John as the adults got closer. "We just jump out and scare the vibes out of her."  
  
They giggled silently, watching the adults walk up to the castle steps. Timothy could recognize Professor Miller and Mali, then bringing up the rear, was the beautiful Ms. Tuvok.  
  
"Look!" Timothy hissed, stopping the laughter.  
  
"Duck!" John shouted.  
  
He pulled Timothy roughly out of the window's view and hid themselves against the wall.  
  
"Did she see us?"  
  
"Do you have your cloak on you?"  
  
Timothy quickly pulled out his father's inherited invisibility cloak and threw it over them, cautiously stepping back in front of the window. Tuvok was standing still on the steps, looking up at them. Timothy let out a slight gasp and shuddered, John gulping loudly.  
  
"She can't see us." Timothy whispered, trying to reassure themselves.  
  
"Not with her eyes, but with her senses." John muttered darkly.  
  
They stumbled backwards, wanting to get away from her gaze. But she quickly disappeared into the castle as they did so.  
  
"What do we do now?" Timothy gasped for breath after being startled.  
  
"Just lie low and not act conspicuous. We can't let her know we're on to her." John checked the door to see if anyone was out in the corridor.  
  
"Oh, well that'll be easy- she's only just an empath who can read our thoughts, for I doubt that she has an honor code like you do about other people's privacy." Timothy rolled his eyes.  
  
"You'll have to learn how to block your thoughts, too." John motioned to him that all was clear.  
  
"And how do I do that? I'm not an empath."  
  
"You don't have to be an empath to block your feelings. It's all willpower there." They whispered as they went up the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower.  
  
"Hey, maybe Peacecraft would have an idea on what's going on." Timothy suggested.  
  
"Worth a shot. I meet her tomorrow during lunch, I'm sure she won't mind if you come along. In fact, she's quite curious about your involvement in my visions."  
  
"Why?" Timothy asked slowly.  
  
"She's a fully-grown and very powerful empath, Timothy. It's impossible for me to hide anything from her. While she says she doesn't read my thoughts- I have yet to learn how to control my feelings completely and broadcast them for all to hear. Now that I think of it… Tuvok may already know I suspect her." They lowered their voices as they got closer to Hagrid's portrait.  
  
"How'd it go, Timothy?" Hagrid called out to him as they came into view.  
  
"I made it, Hagrid! I made the team!" Timothy cried excitedly, glad that even with the Tuvok situation, he had made the team.  
  
"I knew yeh could do it!" Hagrid beamed at him. "Which position?"  
  
Timothy was about to answer, when he realized he really didn't know.  
  
"I'm… not sure. They didn't tell me."  
  
"You're seeker… I could of sworn someone mentioned something 'bout it as they came in. Jus' like yeh father, yeh are! Oh, both yeh parents are gonna be so proud once they hear!" And Hagrid swung open without asking the password.  
  
Timothy and John climbed inside as Hagrid made his congratulations, only to be faced by nearly the entire house.  
  
"CONGRATULATIONS!"  
  
"You did it, Timothy!"  
  
"The Potter legend lives on!"  
  
"Way to go!"  
  
"Ouch! Someone stepped on me foot!"  
  
"Sorry!"  
  
"GRYFF-IN-DOR! GRYFF-IN-DOR!"  
  
The entire common room began to thrum with the chanting, drawing Timothy and John into the beat. It was exhilarating. Timothy felt lighter than air. He accomplished one thing- living up to his father in Quidditch. The worry about the crest began to seep away as students cheered him, and he couldn't wait to write home.  
  
One or two people asked if Darian was all right, and Timothy was so light headed with happiness that he could only stupidly nod. John, however, found this slightly disrespectful that no one was referring to Darian, when he had made the team too. Sure, it was a mysterious and suspicious miracle that the scout picked him… and sadly, it only made John suspect that something was drastically wrong.  
  
Timothy had to force his way into the dorm room, eager to write home. He ran into the room, startling Jeff who was perched on the top of his four poster.  
  
"Hey! Haven't you ever heard of knocking?!" Jeff ruffled his feathers.  
  
"Sorry, Jeff! But, I made it!" Timothy pulled out some parchment and a quill.  
  
"Made what? A lot of noise? 'Cause I already know that." Jeff grumbled.  
  
"No, stupid, I made the team!" he shouted at him as he began to write his letter.  
  
"Oh, well, congrats, wild one." Jeff cocked his head down at him. Timothy was writing hastily, telling his family what had happened and that he'd made it. He quickly got it done and put it in an envelope when he realized that Windstone hadn't returned yet with the first letter he sent earlier.  
  
"Windstone hasn't returned yet, has he?" he asked Jeff.  
  
"No," Jeff ruffled his feathers. "Wonder bird has yet to return. I tell ya, if I were a messenger owl, I would be there and back in a lot less time."  
  
Timothy started to spread a wide grin up at him. Jeff took notice and blinked before realizing what he had just did.  
  
"Oh no… nooo… not me, I'm no messenger! No, this yellow bird is not budging… no matter what you say or do. Uh uh!"  
  
Five minutes later, Jeff was flying over the grounds with the letter strapped to his talons. Timothy waved merrily as Jeff shouted out curses that echoed conspicuously back.  
  
  
"You know, I love how the two of you always keep me informed on everything. I mean, hey, we're best friends- like I'm gonna care! I'll just stand back and twiddle my thumbs while both of you collaborate on business, which obviously does not pertain to me. Nope, no need to inform little ol' Darian, he'll just pad right along like your little dog, completely oblivious."  
  
Darian was taking the news about what had happened a little too hard.  
  
"Darian, you were so out of it that you were singing the American national anthem, among other things. I didn't even know that you knew the words." John sighed as the three of them sat in a quiet corner of the library after Darian was allowed to leave the hospital wing.  
  
"I don't actually," Darian blinked. "Weird."  
  
"Exactly. Which was why you were recovering in the hospital wing and we were figuring out what to do." Timothy crossed his arms.  
  
"OK then, what did you figure out?" Darian pressed, narrowing his eyes dramatically at him while leaning into his face.  
  
"Uh…" Timothy glanced at John.  
  
"That's what I thought." Darian sat back in his seat slowly, glaring at them both. "  
  
"Let's not go through this again," John said suddenly harsh at Darian. "Now you know about it and that's that. Stop acting like a baby."  
  
Darian bit his lip and his eyes went downcast, saying nothing. Satisfied that he had made his point, John lowered his voice to a bare whisper.  
  
"I walked by Peacecraft in the corridor earlier and made it known that both of you would be coming to my lesson today."  
  
"You just blurted it out in the corridor?!" Darian gasped.  
  
"No, of course not!" John gritted his teeth in exasperation, nearly making Timothy giggle. "How else do two empaths talk privately?"  
  
"Oh."   
  
"Now children," Timothy really did begin to giggle. "We're not accomplishing anything by snapping at each other."  
  
"I can't believe it though," Darian began to smile dreamily. "I made the team! Even after flying into the goal post."  
  
John began to make inaudible noises, but Timothy threw him a look that for Darian to know that he only made the team because of the peculiar Ms. Tuvok was not wise.  
  
"Bran is going to find out when the first practice is, then he'll tell us." Timothy said.  
  
"Has Jeff or Windstone returned with a reply from your parents yet?" Darian asked.   
  
"No, it's too early yet, I think. Maybe by tomorrow when the mail arrives." Timothy leaned back in his chair.  
  
Darian began to chat about different techniques he used and how he'd use them during games. John did not seem interested, and pulled out a book on Historical Objects & Where to Find Them. Timothy was only half-listening, staring around the library at all the students who were making use of the study hall time. He let out a yawn, for he was so excited over making the team that he had hardly slept the night before, and stopped when he spotted Luna pulling a book from a shelf and sitting down on the other side of the library.   
  
She looked different, Timothy thought, she no longer had that air of humbleness and need to be noticed. Instead, even though she was still only tall enough to reach Timothy's nose, she seemed bigger and more asserted. Her green eyes no longer held the eager look to please, but seemed hard and distant. For a reason Timothy couldn't explain, it bothered him that this once innocent girl had to see so much that it destroyed her outward personality. Not that he liked her at all, but it seemed such a shame.  
  
"-and then I just… Timothy? Hey, earth to Timothy! You listening?"  
  
Timothy snapped out of his stare and looked back at Darian.  
  
"What? I'm sorry, you were saying?"  
  
Darian frowned at him but continued his dialogue on different moves. John, apparently, became tired of it and stood up.  
  
"It's about time we go. C'mon." he put the book back in his backpack and began to leave, Timothy close behind. Darian looked put off, but he merely sighed and followed.  
  
Timothy had never been to Professor Peacecraft's office, since Divination was an elective that only became available starting the third year. He could remember the rather humorous and mysterious stories his father told about the boring and stifling hot classroom that was more nonsense than anything else. However, as he remembered his father describing the ladder that led to an upstairs classroom through a hole in the ceiling, where John stopped leading them they were not next to a ladder at all. Instead, it was merely just another office, with another room across the corridor labeled DIVINATION.  
  
John had only just paused by the office door when Peacecraft opened it. She was the youngest of all the professors at Hogwarts, but the feeling she gave off was that of wisdom that only an elder professor could manage. When she smiled, trust and friendship was immediate. She looked at all three of them warmly and beckoned them inside.  
  
"You couldn't of come at a better time. I just finished grading some papers." She strode ahead of them and sat at her desk.  
  
"I hope you don't mind my friends being here… this really is more of a meeting than a lesson." John said, sitting down and motioning for Timothy and Darian to do the same.  
  
"Of course not, John. Mr. Potter and Mr. Hall are welcome at any time. What you had to say last time indeed is intriguing. It's only fitting that they join us." She smiled at them.  
  
"Have you met Ms. Tuvok?" Timothy said, cutting to the chase.  
  
"I'm afraid not. Her field is Quidditch and mine is divination, we don't interlope anywhere. However, I get the sensation that I'm not meant to meet her." Peacecraft considered the thought.  
  
"Why?" Darian asked, but his face immediately after told that he already answered himself.  
  
"Tell me, John, why would I not be meant to meet her?" she turned to him and gave him a penetrating stare.  
  
"Ms. Tuvok is an empath, Professor." John answered after a moment.  
  
"And what brings you to that conclusion?" she pressed, but without doubt.  
  
"She is blocking her outward feelings."  
  
"And why would she do that?"  
  
"She knows there are other empaths here."  
  
"Exactly," Peacecraft smiled grimly. "She knows about you and me. Yes, you, because you are not educated enough to know how to mask your own feelings so that she wouldn't be on to you. It's obvious she's hiding something and she doesn't want to be found. And why else would a Quidditch talent scout be hiding her feelings? Because she isn't a talent scout."  
  
"Than who is she? Why was she so ready to put Darian and me on the team? And without the team's consent?" Timothy asked.  
  
"That, no one can know. It's obvious that something is going to happen… involving you, Timothy. She has something to do with it. There is no way of knowing unless I get close enough to see just how powerful she is as an empath to see past her mental barrier." Peacecraft looked at him closely. Timothy had an odd feeling of being searched from the inside.  
  
"What could she possibly want to do to Timothy by putting him on the team? And me?" Darian spoke up.  
  
"I'm not sure," Peacecraft folded her hands on her desk. "The only thing you can do is be careful, and be weary of what she is doing if she stays at Hogwarts. I will casually inquire about her to the headmaster, and see what conclusions I can draw from him. In the meantime, act as if you suspect nothing. When she is near you, focus on Quidditch and nothing else. Those thoughts she'll expect from you."  
  
"What's going to happen?" Darian asked quietly.  
  
"I'm only an empath, Darian, I cannot predict the future. While I may teach that art in my class, it is really a faulty field and not really a magic… certainly not one of my talents. I can only speculate using what abilities I do have… and from the information you have given me. What I can tell you is this: be aware of what you cannot sense." Peacecraft said.  
  
"How can we do that?" Darian continued, not really following.  
  
"That is only for you three to figure out." She replied darkly.  
  
All three boys then exchanged sidelong glances, not really sure what to do next. Of course, Peacecraft took notice and stood up to signal the meeting over.  
  
"Be careful, you three. If anything should happen tell the headmaster or me at once. John, I'll see you tomorrow for you next lesson."  
  
They nodded and got up to leave, when Peacecraft spoke up once more.  
  
"Timothy? May I speak with you alone for a moment?"  
  
He looked to John, who gave him an encouraging nod, and fell back as he and Darian left the room. Timothy went to stand in front of Peacecraft's desk, where she had sat down again.  
  
"Sit, this won't take long." She pointed at the chair behind him. "I'd just like to know how you feel about the visions your friend John has been having."  
  
"Oh," Timothy took a deep breath as he sat down. "Well I… I'm not sure what to think, really."  
  
Peacecraft gave him another penetrating, yet kindly stare.  
  
"What can you tell me about them? I know John's view, but I don't know yours. You must know that it's curiously apparent that these visions pertain to you."  
  
Timothy looked away and tried hard not to think about the crest. Professor Peacecraft was nice and trustworthy, but he couldn't tell another soul. He and John knew that the visions John kept having had something to do with Timothy's quest- but what it all meant, they weren't sure. How could he explain this to a fully educated empath, who must already know?  
  
"You don't have to worry, Timothy. I don't know anything more than you do, and nothing more than you want me to know. It's not my business." She smiled at him.  
  
He relaxed, remembering that if John had an honor code about reading people's feelings, Peacecraft must assuredly abide by the same honor. In all honesty, however, the only thing that came clear from what John told him about his visions was about the black snake.  
  
"There is one thing… that has made itself clear," he said quietly. "Everything else, I don't know… but I agree that it has something to do with me."  
  
"And what is that?"  
  
"This past summer, my friend Jeff found a black snake in my house while my family and I were vacationing in Florida. When we found him, he was about to tell us about this snake before… well… before other issues came up and the explanation needed was forgotten. Then later, John thought he saw a black snake in Diagon Alley... but neither I nor Darian saw anything. And then, the first week of school, a black snake was spotted in my dorm room." Timothy explained while Peacecraft looked at him thoughtfully.  
  
"And the black snake was always present in John's vision." She said.  
  
"Yes, and this is what bothers me the most." Timothy admitted.   
  
"Besides the snake, nothing else from what John has told you has made itself apparent?"  
  
"No."  
  
She looked at him silently and the room was quiet for a few minutes. Timothy could hear Darian and John pacing outside the office.  
  
"Timothy, you know about your family's history, right?" Peacecraft spoke suddenly.  
  
"Yes," Timothy answered slowly. "Why?"  
  
"I cannot tell you what it is you have to do… although I have a feeling you already know and I have no business to know myself. Yet, this is obviously part of something so large that no one knows what's in store. My advice to you, Timothy, is to do what your heart tells you- and follow your instincts. No matter what happens, remember that as long as you try your best, there's hope." With that, her office door opened and she stood up. John and Darian stood curiously in the doorway while Timothy got up himself and began to leave, trying to take in what Peacecraft had said.  
  
"I'll see you boys later. Take care!" she bid them farewell as he office door shut behind Timothy.  
  
"What did she want?" Darian asked, but recoiled slightly as John gave him a warning look that it was best not to ask.  
  
Timothy merely shook his head and began to walk down the corridor with them.  
  
"She just told me what everyone else has told me." He said quietly.  
  
"What's that?" Darian asked before John could counter him.  
  
"Stop thinking about it and just let my heart figure things out."  
  
If Darian was confused, he said nothing. Timothy's friends merely walked silently beside him, all too aware of the burden Timothy had on his shoulders… and feeling bad that they couldn't do anything to help directly.  
  
  
Timothy didn't have long to ponder gloomily on his thoughts about the quest, the visions, and Ms. Tuvok, for both Windstone and Jeff returned that evening with letters from home. He was filled with pride and joy as he read very enthusiastic letters from not only his parents, but also his Godparents, Great Uncle Us, and his grandparents in Florida. His father was overjoyed, to put it mildly, and wrote on to tell how he nearly shouted out to the entire Ministry during an auror's meeting that his son had made the Gryffindor house Quidditch team as seeker. Even his sister was happy for him, and in a letter assisted by their mother, she wrote how she was going to draw a picture of him winning a game.  
  
Darian had received a letter from his father as well, that was no less than enthusiastic as Timothy's. Both boys exchanged delighted excerpts while John listened with delighted interest.  
  
"Well, whether you guys making the team is a set up or not, you're still going to lead Gryffindor to victory and make your families proud." He said to them.  
  
Darian got up and paced while holding his letter, still hyped with happiness.  
  
"Are you kidding? Of course! We'll be legends ourselves!"  
  
"Now let's not get too carried away," Timothy laughed. "Although, it's not that hard to speculate that being factual."  
  
"If I may interrupt," Jeff spoke loudly for the first time since his arrival, preening his feathers next to Windstone on top of Timothy's four poster. "I believe we hard working owls deserve our payment for delivery."  
  
"Well I'll be," Timothy looked up at him. "Finally on mutual ground with Windstone, are we?"  
  
Jeff turned his owl eyes down at him and then looked at Windstone, who gave a hoot in reply.  
  
"I believe that we have come to a truce. This big black bird is not so bad after all." He got pecked hard by Windstone that nearly made Jeff topple over.  
  
"More or less." John smiled up at them.  
  
"Hey, has anyone seen my lucky marble?" Darian asked suddenly, searching his pockets.  
  
Timothy and John looked at each other.  
  
"I didn't know you had a lucky marble." John said.  
  
"Well I do, and now I can't find it." Darian got down on all fours and began searching the floor.  
  
"How is it lucky?" Timothy asked, joining him in his search.  
  
"What makes a shamrock lucky or a horseshoe? It just is!" Darian crawled under his bed.  
  
"When did you have it last?" John began to search bedside tables.  
  
"It was in my pocket, it must have slipped out."  
  
"What color is it?" Timothy asked.  
  
"Green. And it's… wait, there it is!"  
  
Darian scrambled to a place near the stone wall where, sure enough, a tiny green marble laid nestled in a groove. He happily picked it up and began to get to his feet when he stepped on his shoelace and began to topple over. Before John could reach him to give him a hand, Darian fell face forward into the stone wall. Timothy nearly screamed in fear that Darian was going to knock himself out or temporarily loose his mind again, but instead of slamming head first into the wall, Darian simply fell through it.  
  
"Darian!" both Timothy and John cried as he disappeared behind the wall with a scream. They immediately went to the spot where he was and tentatively touched the stone wall. Instead of hitting solid stone, their fingers disappeared into a hollow space.  
  
"What do we do?" John moaned.  
  
"Go get him, of course!" Timothy said sternly, and with a adamant look, he pushed himself through the wall after Darian.  
  
John bounced on his heels for a moment before giving a disgruntled sigh and pushed his way in his wake. Jeff, the whole while, watched the scene dispassionately.  
  
"Sure, I'll just hold up the fort. No need for me to go through non-solid walls after you! You just go and I'll stay here… don't ask lil' ol' Jeff for advice or anything. After all, I'm just a yellow dragon turned yellow owl. Nope, I'll just stay here and cough up the dead mice that Windstone so graciously informed me that I should be doing."  
  
Timothy and John screamed so loud that their ears were ringing. They tumbled down an old, dusty, and cobweb littered slope in complete darkness. It seemed like forever before they finally stopped, hitting something soft.  
  
"Ouch! Watch it!"  
  
"Where are we?" Timothy asked, coughing and rubbing his head.  
  
"Someplace in Gryffindor Tower… or under it." John grunted, picking the cobwebs out of his hair.  
  
"Did any of you know there was an invisible hole in the wall? 'Cause if you did, I greatly appreciate the fact that you told me." Darian got up from under them both.   
  
"Lumos." Timothy said, pulling out his wand. Light filled the spot where they stood, and the three of them gasped at what they saw.  
  
They were in an ancient looking stone corridor. Fixtures on the walls held long burned out torches and tattered tapestries hung from the ceiling that was filled with spider infested webs.  
  
"Why do I have an uncanny feeling of foreboding?" Darian whispered.  
  
"What do we do now? I can't see ourselves trying to get out the way we came in." John said.  
  
"Maybe there's an old way out down this corridor." Timothy suggested.  
  
"Maybe there isn't a way out… maybe we're an old dungeon!" Darian hissed.  
  
"Please… I highly doubt this is a dungeon." John rolled his eyes as Timothy began to walk forward.  
  
"C'mon you guys. Standing here isn't getting us anywhere."  
  
Carefully, led by the light of Timothy's wand, the three of them made their way down the old corridor. They didn't come across a single door or opening anywhere, which after nearly thirty minutes of walking, became unnerving.  
  
"It feels like we've walked the whole length of the castle." Darian complained.  
  
"I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this." John whispered.  
  
"John, you always get a bad feeling about everything. But this time, I've gotta agree with you. Timothy, let's go back." Darian stopped them.  
  
"No, let's keep going. We haven't come this far just to turn back." Timothy started moving on again.  
  
"But Timothy! We don't know where this corridor is taking us!" Darian nearly shouted, making his voice echo off the ancient walls and causing bits of dust and rock to trickle from the ceiling.  
  
"Shh! You don't know that." Timothy looked over his shoulder.  
  
Without waiting for a reply, Timothy began to move on again. Despite further objections from both Darian and John, he kept going. For another fifteen minutes, they pressed on. Then suddenly, Timothy stopped.  
  
"Look! I think we've reached the end!"  
  
"Thank God." Darian panted.  
  
"It looks like a way out." John pushed them to keep moving.  
  
Sure enough, they came to an arched doorway with a huge solid oak door. For a moment, they looked over it with awe.  
  
"Is this the way out?" Darian asked eagerly.  
  
"Must be," Timothy answered… peering closely at the door. "Hey look! There's something written on the door!"  
  
He put his lighted wand closer to the wood and the words of an inscribed message became visible. It began near the top of the door and ended near the bottom, written in fancy engraved letters.  
  
"What does it say?" Darian whispered.  
  
Timothy stood back and strained his eyes to see, and he read:  
  
Heart of lion  
Quick of pride  
Only one shall pass inside  
Black of night  
Blue of sky  
Mito begins and ends with thy  
Noble of name  
Name of old  
You're coming here has been foretold  
Mito begin  
End with thy  
The final battle in your hands lie  
  
"What on Earth does that mean?" Darian asked.  
  
"I don't know," Timothy muttered. "The words look worn out in places, so this must have been written a long time ago."  
  
"What could this message be for?"  
  
"It almost sounds like a puzzle," John read over the message himself with an intent gaze. "A riddle almost."  
  
"And are you good at riddles?" Darian challenged him.  
  
"If we all use our brains, perhaps we could figure it out." John gave him a severe glare.  
  
"Let's divide it up and see what we can do with it," Timothy suggested. "Heart of lion, quick of pride. What does that tell us?"  
  
"You have the heart of a lion and you're quick of pride?" Darian said helplessly.  
  
"You need to get more in touch with your symbolic side, Darian." John rolled his eyes.  
  
"Think about it: lions are often seen as courageous, a symbol of pride. The Gryffindor symbol is a lion. So, that must explain that we're either still in Gryffindor Tower or this message was written by or for a Gryffindor." Timothy explained.  
  
John and Darian looked at him with wide eyes.  
  
"That makes sense," John said, amused. "And the next part, Only one shall pass inside, that part is clear in itself. Only one person is meant to go beyond this door."  
  
"I'm afraid I can't help you with the next part," Darian shook his head. "What could it possibly mean by, Black of night, blue of sky?"  
  
The three of them stared at the passage, and shook their heads.  
  
"The part after that doesn't make much sense either," Timothy muttered. "Mito begins and ends with thy."  
  
"Noble of name, name of old. You're coming here has been foretold. Apparently, whoever it is that's meant to go beyond this door has an honorable name… and the person who wrote this knew that this person would come." John said.  
  
"The rest doesn't help much though, Mito begin, end with thy. The final battle in your hands lie. Well, whatever battle is being waged, the person who goes through this door obviously has to stop it." Darian said.  
  
Timothy read the message a few more times, concentrating on the parts that he thought they had figured out. He strung the parts together, repeating them in his mind over and over- when suddenly his stomach flipped.  
  
"John?" he hissed breathlessly, staring at one particular passage. "Do you think you can unscramble and combine Mito and thy?"  
  
John looked at him and then up at the letters.  
  
"Well, if you combine them both together first… mitothy… then- oh my God."  
  
"What?" Darian asked quickly.  
  
John's face broke out into a combination of wonder, excitement, and a tinge of fear.  
  
"Mito begins… mito, Timo. Ends with thy… Timothy."  
  
Timothy felt light headed… finally, some sort of clue!  
  
"You can't mean…?" Darian gasped.  
  
"Timothy is a Gryffindor- heart of lion, quick of pride. The dark of night… that must mean his hair, his black hair, and the blue of sky his eyes. Noble of name, name of old; The Potter name goes back to the founders, that's how the crest was created in the first place. As for the rest, it's clear: only Timothy can go past this door, whoever wrote this foretold that he'd come here, and because of the crest- the final battle against evil is up to him." John explained.  
  
Timothy could hardly believe it. Now that there was tangible proof of what he had to do, the thought of it nearly made him sick to his stomach. It's true! It's all true! He has to find his family crest so that he could defeat Malfoy and rid the world of evil forever. Now, as he ran his fingers over the engraved letters of his destiny, it hit him with such force that he wanted to run away… run away crying into his parents' arms, telling them that he was afraid and wanted nothing more than to creep behind his mother's robes and feel his father ruffling his hair protectively. How on Earth was he supposed to do this?! This was an adult's job! Crest or no crest, how was he supposed to face an evil wizard?  
  
John must of sensed Timothy's outburst of silent emotion, and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"We'll help you in any way we can, Timothy. I know you, you can do this."  
  
Darian came over to his other side and gave him a reassuring smile.  
  
"If not, we can always look for the teacher's manual and cheat."  
  
Timothy laughed bitterly.  
  
"This is one assignment with no written answers, and definitely not a group test."  
  
"The only way to get rid of an assignment is just to do it. This door has been waiting a long, long time. Might as well do what has been expected and get it over with." John smiled wearily, putting pressure on his hand to encourage Timothy to move forward.  
  
Reluctantly, Timothy put his hand out and pushed on the old, ancient wood. Instantly, it began to swing back with a loud creaking sound, the noise echoing down the corridor behind him, making both John and Darian cringe. Timothy's wand, which was still lighted, illuminated what lay beyond the door. However, despite the light, there was nothing but darkness where the glow did not touch.  
  
"If you need anything, be sure to yell." Darian said a little too cheerfully.  
  
Neither of them laughed, for if only Timothy was allowed inside, it was more than likely that no one else could pass beyond the great door. If something should happen, Timothy was on his own.  
  
He looked back at Darian and John one last time, their faces tight with fear and worry. Then, from some unknown place inside him, Timothy felt enough courage to look forward into the darkness… and move on.  
  
After no more than several steps, the door swung shut behind Timothy's back, cutting him off from his friends. The light from his wand was of no use to light anything other than the immediate area around him, which was nothing but the stone floor. Complete silence enveloped him, if John and Darian were shouting or making noise in front of the door it was impossible to tell. Timothy took a huge breath, feeling his heart pounding against his chest and the blood pulsing in his ears. There was nothing he could do but to move forward, moving almost blindly further down the hall behind the door which had his name written upon it a thousand years before then. It was almost too much to bear, as he kept his cautious pace through the damp gloom, but that tinge of courage from an unknown source inside of himself prevented Timothy from breaking out into fearful tears and crying out for his parents to come get him.  
  
The light from his wand told him that the hall he was in was narrow, for now the glow illuminated mildew covered stone walls on either side of him. Then suddenly, the walls were gone, and the light touched nothing but himself and the floor below him. Timothy strained to find something to focus on, but again he seemed to be surrounded by nothing.  
  
He thought desperately about the Marauder's Map, which would show where he was and how to get through to where ever it was that he needed to go. But then, with a sinking feeling, Timothy couldn't remember ever seeing a passageway or corridor secretly branching off from the boys' dorm room. This place was only meant, apparently, for him and whoever came with his presence.  
  
With a quick movement of his arm, Timothy tried to get as much light from his wand out into his surroundings as possible. With a burst of impatient energy, he swung his hand about, thinking that the light would stay for a moment keeping the darkness back a little longer. That was when his wrist hit something hard and bitterly cold.  
  
"Ouch!" Timothy recoiled his hand instantly and brought it close to him, cradling it while he felt the heat of his blood trickle down his arm from a large scrape where his wrist had hit the stone. His wand had fallen on the floor and had rolled away. It stopped just beside what it was that he must of hit and he picked it up deftly as he held his injured hand to his body in pain. Slowly, he stood up, bringing the lighted wand close to the stone obstruction that he'd hit. That was when he began to notice more engraved writing on what it appeared to be a stone pillar. With bated breath, he strained to read the words,  
  
STATE YOUR NAME, MITO BEGIN END WITH THY  
  
His breath stopped and his eyes went wide, his stomach became even more twisted than it already was. What would happen if he said his name out loud? Maybe that's all he had to do, maybe that just by saying his name, the Potter family crest would just fall on his head and that would be that. Then he'd just have to show up in front of Malfoy, flash the crest in his face, and watch the evil jerk shrivel up and die like the witch in that old Muggle story… what was it called? The Wizard of Nog? That was not important, only that this crest business might not actually be so bad after all. He had worried himself sick over something that might actually be really easy.  
  
Timothy found his breath again and stood up as tall as he could. Then with his most authoritative voice, remembering all the times he had tried to sound like his father when he was little, Timothy spoke his name.  
  
"Timothy! Timothy Harry Potter!"  
  
He said his full name as an after-thought, thinking that that was proper. However, nearly cringing and expecting something to come flying at him, nothing happened. A moment passed, and nothing, not even a speck of dust made itself known.  
  
"Okay," Timothy whispered to himself. "I take it that was not what I was supposed to say, if I am to say anything at all."  
  
Then it was like an explosion erupted. In reflex, Timothy flung himself down and hugged the floor. A violent gush of wind blew through his messy black hair and made his glasses hang by one ear askew. His eyes, which were adjusted to near darkness, were blinded by light. Timothy cringed himself into a fetal position, thinking that by saying more than just his name he had messed something up and now was paying the price. Here he was, the supposed foretold hero of the world that would end forever all evil, and he had to go and fail before he even began… just by saying the wrong thing.  
  
The damp coolness of the room he was in was now quickly replaced by warmth. The wind died down and disappeared and the light no longer burned through his eyelids. Slowly, cautiously, Timothy opened his eyes. Expecting a scene of terror, instead he saw a simple pedestal in the middle of this single room. The pillar with the engraved words that had told him to say his name was behind him, almost against the wall. The light and warmth came from evenly spaced torches in fixtures on the stone.  
  
"Whoa." He couldn't help but gasp out loud. Perhaps he had said the right thing after all, and the ancient spells placed upon this room and corridor simply needed a while to get up and going. His eyes fell upon the pedestal in the middle of the room again, and he felt adrenaline pump through his body. The crest! The crest was there! This was so easy!  
  
But as he nearly ran to the raised platform that was the pedestal, his happiness dropped like a stone. Instead of an old and ornate family crest, there was only a large metal key, like the ones Muggles used a long time ago, lying amongst the dust on the bare stone.  
  
"A key?!" he shouted, stomping his foot in exasperation. "A key. I should have known… nothing like this could be that easy."  
  
It was old and rusted, looking nothing like a magical object at all. All this protection for a key? There was nothing keeping it guarded, and so, dubiously, Timothy picked it up and winced at it's remarkable weight.  
  
"Now what?"  
  
Almost immediately, the hall that he had walked through from the door to that room was instantly lit by countless torches, clearly leading the way back to where he had came in. With a last look at the pedestal, and pocketing the heavy key inside his school uniform, Timothy made his way back down the hall. As he passed each torch, they went out, until by the time he had reached the great oak door, only a single torch was lit. Everything was as it was before he entered. Grabbing the large hoop door handle, he pulled with all his strength.  
  
"The door's opening!" shouted Darian from the outside.  
  
"Is it Timothy?" John asked quickly.  
  
"No, it's Big Foot… of course it's Timothy! Look!"  
  
They apparently were helping in pushing back the door, and so Timothy soon managed to squeeze himself out. The door fell back into place with a heavy smash and to everyone's astonished surprise: the message on the door disappeared.  
  
"It's served its purpose. No need for it now." John whispered.  
  
"Well, Timothy? Did you find it? Did you find the crest? Was it there?" Darian hovered over him, looking closely.  
  
"No," Timothy grumbled, searching his pocket for the key. "All I found was this old Muggle key."  
  
"Definitely Muggle," Darian inspected it as Timothy held it out in the palms of his hands. "Why on Earth would your ancestors invoke a magical power in this?"  
  
"Isn't it obvious?" John crossed his arms, taking his turn at looking at the key. "To further protect the crest, it must be somewhere else. This key must open whatever it is that's hiding it. And as for it being a Muggle key- to make it less obvious should anyone come upon it. However, that's impossible if it was kept here all these years"  
  
"So where is it then?"   
  
"I still don't know. There wasn't any clue back there… only the key." Timothy sighed.  
  
They fell silent, looking at the key, when suddenly the ground began to tremble.  
  
"You feel that?"   
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Don't know."  
  
The frame around the door gave an earsplitting crack.  
  
"This place is collapsing!"  
  
"Oh, just swell!"  
  
"RUN!"  
  
Timothy dropped the key back in his pocket and sprang into a run just as an avalanche of rock and dirt hit the spot he was just in. John, being the tallest, ran ahead of them with Darian and Timothy close behind. They bolted down the old corridor, which was crumbling before them. Boulders of ancient stone rolled into their path, making them dodge left and right at full speed.  
  
"You… know… something… just… occurred to me," Darian panted, ducking his head as a rock nearly fell on him. "There's… no way… out… back here. We'll be… crushed… trying to… climb back up!"  
  
Timothy nearly stumbled over a pile of stone as he remembered. They were trapped! If they tried to crawl their way back up the slide, or whatever it was that sent them tumbling down there to begin with, the collapsing passageway would bury them alive.  
  
"Timothy!" John yelled back. "You still… have your wand?"  
  
Timothy pulled it out from his other pocket, where he had kept it after the torches lit the room. He sped up just as John slowed down enough to get it from him. As the end of the corridor came into view, with the long slide that had delivered them down there from the boys' dorm, John stretched out his arm in front of him with Timothy's wand.  
  
"Ascendio!"  
  
The slide began to shimmer and ripple, like the surface of a pond after being pelted with a stone. When it stilled, there was now a staircase leading up.  
  
"Did I ever tell you… John… just how much… I love you?" Darian cried.  
  
"No," John panted, jumping onto the stairs and going up two steps at a time. "Nor do I want to know."  
  
Timothy had never fled up stairs that fast before, and it didn't seem fast enough, for the corridor was now leveled and the staircase was crumbling as they left each step behind. John was the first to leap into the seemingly solid wall in front of them as they reached the top. Darian stopped and hesitated, just as Timothy pushed him through and fell in with him when the last step gave way and disappeared.  
  
"There you are!" Jeff flew at Timothy as he began to gather himself from the floor. John was already on his feet, brushing off dust and specks of stone. Darian was groaning useless around on the floor, before John grabbed his arm and pulled him up with a grunt. Jeff landed on Timothy's head and scrambled to keep hold on his hair.  
  
"Hey! Ouch! Jeff, stop it! Get off!"  
  
"Just leave me behind again! You know how long you've been gone?! If something happened to you your parents would have my hide- er… feathers!" Jeff settled himself, despite Timothy's frantic swatting to get him off.  
  
Darian flopped onto his bed, exhausted. John sat down on his and took deep breaths. With Jeff still on his head, Timothy crawled to the spot on the wall where the hidden entrance was… but it was no longer there. The wall was solid stone.  
  
"You know… I should poop on you for this. Yeah, that would be right…" Jeff said wistfully.  
  
"Don't you dare, or I'll have you stuffed and sent to my grandparents in Florida for Thanksgiving." Timothy got on his feet, pried the yellow owl from his hair with a painful yelp, and dropped Jeff on top of his perch.  
  
"Fair enough," Jeff grumbled. "Just what were you doing down there?"  
  
Timothy reached into his pocket and pulled out the key, holding it out for Jeff to look at.  
  
"You went down there for that?"  
  
"Went where for what?" Bran suddenly opened the dorm room door and walked in.  
  
"For the- ouch!" Timothy slapped Jeff quickly, "…er… hoot hoot!"  
  
"Nothing," Timothy quickly put the key back in his robes and smiled a little too brightly. "I just got letters from my family, that's all."  
  
"Ah," Bran nodded, looking at Jeff suspiciously. "Yeah, I'd imagine. Last year I was pelted with notes from home when I made the team."  
  
"Speaking of which," Timothy walked away from Jeff and sat down on Darian's bed. "When's practice?"  
  
"Right now, as a matter of fact. I just came up here to get my broom and tell you. Ms. Tuvok wanted us to start right away, so she could see us in action before she has to leave." Bran answered, opening his trunk and getting out his broom.  
  
Timothy paled and Darian sat up straight.  
  
"Now? Right now?"  
  
"Didn't I say now?" Bran rolled his eyes.  
  
They both looked at John, who gave them a helpless look and shrug.  
  
"Well?" Bran shut his trunk closed. "Are you coming or not?"  
  
Slowly, both Timothy and Darian got to their feet and pulled out their brooms. Bran left and when Darian checked the door to make sure he was gone, he looked back at them.  
  
"What do we do about Tuvok?" he hissed.  
  
"Nothing," John said sternly. "Don't give her any idea that you know about her. This is so sudden… you guys didn't have enough time to learn how to block your minds off. Just keep as far away from her while trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Don't even talk about her amongst yourselves."  
  
Timothy and Darian nodded and made way to leave, before stopping and looking back at John.  
  
"What're you going to do?"  
  
"Catch up on a little reading." John smiled at them knowingly.  
  
Darian was about to inquire more, but Timothy shook his head and pulled him out.  
****  
  
  
Mary Peacecraft stood before the stone gargoyle. She was rarely in this part of the castle, for she never had any real private business with the headmaster before. However, she could definitely feel that something was very wrong, and to start her investigation she needed to speak with whom she could trust most in the school.  
  
"Utopia." She whispered.  
  
The stone gargoyle slid to the side, revealing a moving spiral staircase. Not the least bit intimidated or doubtful, she made her way up to the office door labeled: HEADMASTER E. DUMBLEDORE.  
  
I wish to speak to you, headmaster, if you have a moment.   
  
Peacecraft smiled, Eian Dumbledore was fascinated with her mind-speak ability, and whenever she called for him, he requested that she would do so that way. While she personally felt not to exploit her abilities, it was only toward him that she spoke to in that manner. Except of course, John Stanton.  
  
The door swung open and Peacecraft quietly made her way inside. Dumbledore was at his huge desk, studying a star chart. When she came into the light of a single lit candle, he smiled and put down the chart.  
  
"A pleasure to see you, Professor Peacecraft. And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?"  
  
"I find you well, today, Professor?" Peacecraft smiled her beautiful and youthful smile.  
  
"Yes, in fact you do. I have just discovered one of my lost charts of the Qui nebula. A fascinating place! Have you been there?" Dumbledore folded his hands across his desk.  
  
"No, I'm afraid not. I'll have to make a holiday of it sometime." She sat down in the armchair across from him.  
  
"It's quite lovely there, this time of year." Dumbledore studied her a moment. "Well, it doesn't take an empath to know that you are not here for chit chat. What's on your mind, Mary?"  
  
Peacecraft hesitated a moment, her expression wavering.  
  
"I'm quite curious about this Quidditch talent scout I keep hearing about from my students. They are filled with such excitement by her that I'm interested to know about whom she represents."  
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows a moment and seemed to consider a thought.  
  
"Well, to be completely honest, I haven't really spoken with Ms. Tuvok at all."  
  
It was Peacecraft's turn to raise her brows.  
  
"Oh? Than who invited her?"  
  
"I believe it was Professor Miller who did. Perhaps he would have more information. Why?" Dumbledore cocked his head.  
  
Peacecraft thought hard to come up with a likely story, masking her anxiety flawlessly as she did so. When she had one, she shrugged innocently.  
  
"I just wanted to know which team she was scouting for. I'm a big fan of the Chudley Cannons, after all."  
  
Not to her surprise, Dumbledore chuckled.  
  
"Oh I don't think she represents a professional team, she could be more of an advisor than anything else, though. And you! A Chudley Cannons fan? I never would have guessed!"  
  
Peacecraft merely smiled sweetly.  
  
"An empath is an ocean of unattainable secrets."  
  
"So is a woman's heart." Dumbledore smiled back.  
  
"Very true." Peacecraft got to her feet. "I'm sorry to keep you, Professor. I'll leave you now."  
  
"Don't hesitate to call on me again, Professor Peacecraft, if you need anything more. Sorry I couldn't be of any help." He stood up to see her out.  
  
"Thank you, Professor."  
  
She reached the door and stopped a moment, feeling a knot tie in her stomach at the thought of what she was about to do. But it had to be done, for the safety of the children. Without a word, she closed her eyes and felt out with her consciousness toward Dumbledore's. As quickly and as efficiently as she could, Peacecraft touched the part of his mind that held memory and made their conversation disappear as if it never happened. When she sensed that the memory was gone, she quickly withdrew herself from his mind and stepped out without a word. Dumbledore would never remember the conversation they had just had. If she had used just a simple memory charm, it would be detectable. Even though her vow to the unwritten law of being an empath forbid her to use her powers on the unaware and unwilling- this was a special circumstance that had to be done. If this Tuvok woman came to Dumbledore and asked if he was questioned by her, Peacecraft would be found and the Potter boy- and perhaps his friends too- would be in even more danger.  
  
The gargoyle slid back into place and Peacecraft calmly made her way back to her office. It was too risky to seek out Tuvok herself. Eian Dumbledore, as grand a wizard as he was, would never be his father. Albus would have investigated Tuvok and most likely would have picked up something strange about her. Eian was younger, not as experienced in this role… nor as talented, as hard as he tries. Tuvok wouldn't worry about him as long as she kept out of his way- he wasn't that oblivious.  
Perhaps it was time to contact the Potters. Peacecraft's meeting with Timothy allowed her to respectfully sense an alarming amount of potential inside of him. She had been five years old when she had met his father, Harry Potter. It was her, in fact, that helped guide the legendary soul to his kidnapped mate… even being unaware of her own powers. His son, now that she was learned and skilled at being what she was, has an even greater and more dangerous venture ahead of him. No one would know this child better than his parents… and she knew that they were aware of his destiny. Just how much… she needed to know.  
  
  
  
A/N: Please, do tell me what you think. This chapter just gets things rolling, the next chapter will change EVERYTHING, although it won't seem like it at first. Big things are planned!  
  
HTTP://WWW.THEWORLDOFRENEEPOTTER.DISNEYFANSITES.COM  
Check out answers to your reviews, new fan art, Timothy character profiles, and more... updated nearly everyday!  
  
PLEASE review! Reviews are spiffy and help make the story great... I'll try to get chapter 8 up pronto!  
  
~OrcaPotter 


	8. The Unexpected

A/N: Ahah! It starts here... be sure to leave a review at the end and tell me what you think! Oh, and Trinity, good to know you're still reading- ff.net is so annoyingly fickle, no? Anyway, please enjoy and please review peeps!  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Eight: The Unexpected  
  
  
"Ah, here comes our star player now!"  
  
The Gryffindor team was standing just outside the Quidditch pitch, waiting for Timothy and Darian to arrive. Seamore Walters stood slightly in front of the rest of the team, his eyes beaming down at Timothy as they approached.  
  
"Remind me again why I tried out for the team?" Darian grumbled sarcastically under his breath.  
  
"Because you're just as good a player as anyone else here and you're smart enough not to take Walters personally." Timothy mumbled back.  
  
"Ermm… right."  
  
Walters brought down his hand on Timothy's shoulder when they reached them with a broad smile. He only glanced politely at Darian before ordering the team to warm up.  
  
"There's nothing I need to teach you," Walters laughed as they walked out onto the field while the other players mounted their brooms and took off for practice runs. "You're just as good as anyone else, maybe even better, so don't expect special treatment just 'cause you're starting out."  
  
Timothy merely nodded and walked off to prepare his broom, looking back at Darian to beckon him to follow, but Walters grabbed Darian's arm before he could move.  
  
"You however, keep clear of the posts, 'eh? Hah hah!"  
  
Darian scowled and roughly pulled himself free of Walter's grasp, quickly catching up to Timothy.  
  
"That good for nothing piece of s…-!"  
  
"Darian."  
  
"I'm just a big joke to him!"  
  
"Just ignore him. Prove him wrong! Show him that you're just as good as I am… then he'll lay off both of us!" Timothy hissed severely as they mounted their brooms and took to the air.  
  
"He loves you! What do you have to worry about?" Darian said hotly.  
  
"I don't like him any more than you do. Stop fretting about this and keep an eye out for Tuvok, I haven't seen her." With a wave, Timothy shot up above the other players on the team to scout out the Snitch. It was a technique his father had used and taught him, and it served Timothy a duel purpose at that moment: looking for the Snitch, and Ms. Tuvok.  
  
"Be careful." Darian pulled out his beater's stick and flew off to tackle the Bludgers, which were already closing in on Dole and Jane, two of the chasers.  
  
Timothy tried to inconspicuously search the commentator's box and the stands for Tuvok, while making it look like he was just searching for the Snitch. Sure enough, just walking onto the sidelines, Ms. Tuvok came onto the field alongside Professor Mali. He made sure to keep as far away from them as possible, and when he moved to the far side of the pitch, Timothy spotted the Snitch.  
  
It was hovering close to Darian, as a matter of fact, and he was frantically blowing off a Bludger that kept going after Pena Nole. If he kept backing up on his broom, the Snitch would be moved away and lost again.  
  
Checking his path of decent, Timothy flattened himself against his broom and dove toward the Snitch. Darian, out of the corner of his eye, spotted him and gave a powerful blow to the Bludger he was fighting. He cleared the way for Timothy, and the Snitch fell into Timothy's outstretched hand as he zoomed past.  
  
Mali's whistle blew and the team began to land their brooms for a break. Timothy happily jumped to the grass field and handed the Snitch over to Albus Moran, the Keeper, who gave him a congratulatory slap on the back. Darian landed alongside him, smiling for the first time since they walked onto the pitch.  
  
"Make a good team, don't we?" he grinned.  
  
"Told you." Timothy smiled back.  
  
"Bravo, bravo! I knew I had made a wise decision!"  
  
Tuvok came striding toward them, wearing ridiculously high red pumps and a knee length red sun dress. Her long fingernails were painted to match, and she grabbed Timothy before he could so much as react to her sudden appearance.  
  
Timothy sent a warning look to Darian not to give off anything as he wanly smiled in her grip.  
  
"Er… hello, Ms. Tuvok."  
  
Her Russian accent was thick as she got close to his ear to say:  
  
"I expect nothing less from you, Mister Potter."  
  
Timothy couldn't help but let out a gulp.  
  
She stood up straight and regarded Darian with a wiry smile.  
  
"And you too, Mister Hall. Why, I believe you'll match up to Mister Potter here in time."  
  
Darian had a hard time containing his scowl.  
  
"Yes, perhaps I should match you too up, to improve your skills. I shall consult with Mister Walters about this. Mister Hall can learn a lot from you, Mister Potter."  
  
With a seductive wink, Tuvok strode back to Mali, who had her eyes furrowed at her in distaste. Tuvok ignore her and pulled Walters aside. Timothy looked back at Darian, who looked about ready to implode.  
  
"Improve my skills! Improve my skills?! I'll show her improvement on my skills! I don't need help!"  
  
"Now, Darian, take it easy…" Timothy tried to calm him.  
  
"I don't care what she is, who she is, or what she's doing, Timothy. I'm going to show everyone that I'm better than they think I am! You just wait, sister! I'll show you! I'll show you all!" Darian growled, and before Timothy could stop him, he shot back up into the air and began to beat the Bludgers roughly.  
  
Timothy sighed and looked back at Tuvok, who had finished talking with Walters and was now watching Darian indifferently. Walters himself was busy scribbling on a roll of parchment, most likely issuing the assignments Tuvok had "suggested".  
  
Yeah, right. More like ordered. Why are they letting her run everything? She's not the head of Gryffindor, she's not associated with the Quidditch department. Why hasn't anyone realized she's not just an ordinary talent scout? Why haven't they realized she isn't one at all?  
  
He suddenly realized he was staring, and quickly got back on his broom to continue the exercise. It was clear that Tuvok was manipulating everyone connected with Quidditch that she needed to stay, and give authority. Walters gave into her every whim without a blink of any eye, is it possible she has him under some sort of spell? And what about Professor Mali? She obviously detests Tuvok, but says nothing when the woman acts on unprecedented power.  
  
Something is very wrong.  
  
Before Mali blew the whistle to signal practice over, Timothy and Darian spent another three hours on the pitch with the rest of the team. Darian didn't seem directly angry at him, but didn't say anything when Walters did order them to try some flying maneuvers with each other. Timothy acted as if nothing was wrong, but kept trying to convey a look to his friend to tell him that it was not his fault. Darian only grunted.  
  
"First game is in two weeks, folks! Versus Slytherin! Next practice is on Thursday, don't you forget it! We better shape ourselves up if we hope to flatten those slimy worms!" Walters called out to them as they filed out of the pitch.  
  
"You're not mad at me, are you Darian?" Timothy whispered to him as they walked to the castle.  
  
"No." he mumbled.  
  
"Well? Why are you so cold towards me all of a sudden? You know I didn't cause Tuvok to do what she did and said, nor can I control Walters."  
  
"I know."  
  
"So what's your problem?"  
  
"Take a wild guess." And with that he broke into a hasty walk and went into the castle before Timothy.  
  
Flabbergasted and slightly put off, Timothy ran into the castle after him, slamming into Luna Dine.  
  
"Watch it!"  
  
"Well, excuse me!" Luna barked uncharacteristically.  
  
Timothy was too caught up with Darian to wonder, and went up the staircase two steps at a time before he stopped short again.  
  
"Timothy Potter! Here, got a moment? I need you to do something for us."  
  
It was Dan and Zan, the only two ghosts of Hogwarts. Timothy hadn't seen them at all that school year; rumor had it that the two partnered auror ghosts were quarreling so much that Dumbledore ordered them to stay below the dungeons until they settled- which obviously wasn't until recently.  
  
"I'm busy." Timothy panted impatiently, moving aside to go on, but Dan flew in front of his face to stop him. Timothy did not care to walk through his icy vaporous body.  
  
"Oh, please! We need another opinion!"  
  
"You're parents are aurors, perhaps you'll know!" Zan crossed her arms, floating off to the side.  
  
"They don't tell me much," Timothy said quickly, darting around Dan. "I'm not one to ask."  
  
"You're sure to know something! C'mon!"  
  
"We just need to know who's stronger in the anti-dark arts, men or women?" Zan asked quickly.  
  
Timothy stopped struggling to get past and blinked at them.  
  
"You're asking me? How am I to know?"  
  
Dan and Zan looked at each other.  
  
"Maybe your father has said something? He is Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Order of Merlin, First Class."  
  
"You're mother, surely! Harry's not the only one with the Order of Merlin, First Class!"  
  
"My parents are both great and talented at what they do. How else did they defeat the dark lord if they didn't work together? The individual doesn't matter, it's the team. My dad told me that, and my mum agrees. Maybe if you two started listening to each other instead of bickering senselessly, you'll find your answer." Timothy said, and he left the two awestruck ghosts to themselves to continue looking for Darian.  
  
He didn't find him until he reached their dorm room, where he half-expected him to be in the first place. John was sitting by Darian's side, and gave Timothy a warning look not to pursue any questions just yet. Confused and upset, Timothy decided to go for a walk.  
  
Most of the school was in their common rooms and in their dorms when Timothy walked back out of the castle and into the cool air of evening. He walked out to the lake and leaned against the oak tree, watching the water.  
  
"Darian's stupid if he thinks that it's my fault that Walters and Tuvok favors me. I mean, Tuvok has an obvious plot out against me! This is all just part of her plan, most likely." Timothy grumbled.  
  
"So that's what's wrong, 'eh wild one?"  
  
Timothy looked up into the oak's branches and saw Jeff perched on one of the lower limbs, watching him closely with his large owl eyes.  
  
"Yeah, so?" he shrugged up at him.  
  
Jeff lifted off the branch and came to land tentatively on Timothy's shoulder, giving him a piercing stare.  
  
"Let Darian blow off his steam. He's smart enough to realize eventually that he was wrong. Just give him some space to think it out."  
  
"But I didn't do anything!" Timothy shouted.  
  
"Hey, I'm three inches from you, can you yell any louder?!" Jeff shouted back, shaking his head vigorously.   
  
"Sorry," Timothy colored slightly. "It's just that he's my friend and having him being mad at me for no reason gets on my nerves."  
  
"Darian has enough maturity right now to fill a shot glass," Jeff mumbled. "Like I said, give him time and he'll come around."  
  
"Maybe you're right." Timothy sighed, looking back out at the lake.  
  
"Of course I am! I'm only the wisest talking owl there is!"  
  
"OK, but I'll remember your wisdom if it doesn't work out, and get back to you." Timothy pointed a finger at him.  
  
"The great Jeff is never wrong!" Jeff grinned as best he could with a beak.  
  
"Oh yeah? What about that one time when I was little that you told me that human babies hatched from eggs?"  
  
"In a sense they are."  
  
"Or the time you told me that eating carrots would turn me orange?"  
  
"Eat enough of them and you would have."  
  
"How about the time you told me that my socks would come alive and eat my feet if I didn't change them every day?"  
  
"OK, you got me there."  
  
"I rest my case." Timothy smiled and began to walk back to the castle.  
  
"I know what I'm saying this time, though!" Jeff insisted as they walked off.  
  
"Sure."  
  
"No, really! Listen to me I-… hey, you hear that?" Jeff squeezed his talons on Timothy's shoulder, making him wince in slight pain.  
  
"Hear what? Ouch, Jeff, you're hurting me!"  
  
"Something else moving in the grass. Listen!" Jeff focused his eyes behind them in the grass, and Timothy turned to look where he was looking. The only movement was the wind moving over the grass, and Timothy rolled his eyes and began to move on again.  
  
"I don't see anything."  
  
"But I heard something moving!"  
  
"It was just us you were hearing. Geez, you've become even more paranoid as a bird!"  
  
"I'm not paranoid!" Jeff cried defensively.  
  
"Right."  
  
"No really!"  
****  
  
  
"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Potter."  
  
"I can't believe it's you!"  
  
"Am I that unbelievable?"  
  
"No, it's just… now I feel so old."  
  
"I'm hardly as old as I look, I assure you."  
  
Mary Peacecraft had finally managed to meet with Harry and Renee Potter after an auror's meeting they had in one of the offices at the Ministry. They sat themselves down in one of the smaller conference rooms, and while Peacecraft could feel a warm and pleasant vibe coming from Harry, she could sense that Renee knew that she was not meeting them on casual business. The look in the deep blue eyes of Timothy's mother seemed to look into her like another empath would, but Renee was not an empath.  
  
"What brings you to us after all this time, Ms. Peacecraft?" Renee smiled calmly.  
  
"Well, as you may know, I'm a professor at Hogwarts for divination." She explained. "I've had the pleasure of coming across your young son, Timothy."  
  
"Really?" Harry smiled proudly. "He hasn't done anything wrong, has he?"  
  
"Oh no," Peacecraft laughed. "Nothing of the sort, that I know of. Although, he's so much like you, Harry, that I wouldn't be surprised."  
  
"If he does take after me, I doubt we'll ever know everything that he does at Hogwarts." He tried to hide a grin, while Renee gave him a sidelong glare.  
  
"What is it that concerns you, though?" Renee addressed Peacecraft quietly. The direct question struck her by surprise; Renee had unprecedented powers.  
  
Peacecraft did a quick mental check of anyone outside the room who might be nearby to listen, put a silencing spell around them, and cleared her throat.  
  
"It has been brought to my attention by one of Timothy's closest friends, John Stanton, that there is something going on at the school that involves your son. John, like myself, is an empath, and over the summer experienced a reoccurring vision that somehow involves Timothy. Meanwhile, as you may already know by letters from him, there is a Quidditch talent scout on the grounds that has a particular fondness for Timothy. I'm am unsure if the two are connected."  
  
"Who is the talent scout? Why would she have anything to do with a vision concerning Timothy?" Harry asked, all amusement gone.  
  
"I have not met this talent scout, for she isn't one at all. John was able to sense that this woman is blocking her mental vibes to the outside, meaning that she is an empath like myself. The only reason to block your feelings from anyone is if you have something to hide- and she knows that there are empaths at the school. I believe that is why I have not come across her, she's making sure that any adult empaths can't come close enough to sense that she's up to something. As for her connected to Timothy, I am not sure what her motives are. Only that she chose him for the Quidditch position almost immediately, and also motioned for his friend Darian to be admitted as well. From what I know, Darian was not a prime candidate after an embarrassing incident involving one of the goal posts. She has singled the two out, and this is what concerns me."  
  
The looks on Harry and Renee's faces were of total concentration and focus. Renee, apparently, instinctively reached out for Harry's hand and took it.  
  
"This brings me to the main reason why I have come to see the two of you in person." Peacecraft took a deep breath and cleared her throat again. "Both of you are aware that your son has a destiny, much like you yourselves had."  
  
They nodded. "Yes."  
  
"As an empath, I have an oath to the unwritten law that it is forbidden to read into a person's mind without permission of that person. Let me assure you, that I have not invaded on Timothy's consciousness. However, as you know, he radiates a distinctive power that originates down deep through his blood. His destiny is far greater than anyone can imagine, but I would like to know if you know anything more than that."  
  
"We knew from the moment he was born that he was very important. More important than us." Harry said quietly.  
  
"It's up to him to destroy Malfoy." Renee whispered, her eyes downcast.  
  
"Yes. That is part of his quest, which is part of his destiny." Peacecraft nodded.  
  
"Quest?" Harry looked at her sharply. "What quest?"  
  
Peacecraft sighed inside of herself, it was apparent that Timothy's parents did not know of anything that could be helpful.  
  
"I do not know what it is he has to do, but the part that makes Timothy's destiny far greater is the fact that he has been sent on a quest."  
  
"Who? Who sent him?" Renee pressed.  
  
"I do not know. You must understand that there is nothing you can do to help him, except to be there for support. The final battle must be waged by him alone."  
  
"We know." Harry sighed heavily, looking at Renee.  
  
"Is there nothing more you can tell me that you think could be helpful?" Peacecraft looked at them both.  
  
They shook their heads.  
  
"No… why? What does this other empath want to do with our son?"  
  
"That is exactly what I want to find out." Peacecraft got to her feet; Harry and Renee stood up to see her out.  
  
"Thank you for telling us about this, Mary," Harry put his arm around Renee's shoulders. "I'm sure Timothy never would have."  
  
"And it's important that he doesn't know I told you. You should act as you normally do- it would worry him that you both know. He's already greatly stressed with the knowledge of the task that has been befallen on him. Normalcy, as much as possible these days, is best for Timothy right now." She reached for the door and paused a moment.  
  
"Oh, by the way, Gryffindor's first game is in two weeks. I'm sure Headmaster Dumbledore would love to meet with you at that time, if you catch my meaning."  
  
They both smiled and nodded.  
  
"That's one meeting I don't want to miss." Harry beamed.  
****  
  
There were six practice sessions before the first game, and Timothy had never had more intense training in Quidditch before. Tuvok was still observing and giving Walters "pointers" on where to improve the players. As result, Timothy was paired with Darian and every day Timothy was praised and Darian was corrected. It made the practices almost unbearable as the growing competition between them grew. Timothy tried to talk with him, but it was no use. Darian seemed to blame Timothy for all of his mistakes. Timothy's impatience with him finally won him over and he gave up trying to make a mend. The game in which they both loved was tearing their friendship apart.  
  
"This is ridiculous," John rolled his eyes in exasperation as he was put between them at dinner a few nights before the first match. "You know that the only reason this is happening to the two of you is because of that woman!"  
  
"I don't care who or what she is," Darian grumbled, not looking up from his plate. "In order for me to keep up with the team I have to improve my skills! And if I have to be paired with a know-it-all hotshot, by all means am I going to improve! Just to prove that I'm really the better player!"  
  
Timothy stabbed his meat angrily at hearing Darian's words, hitting the plate a little too hard and sending the piece of meat to go soaring into the air and land on Carla Haughton's head.  
  
"WHO DID THAT? I DEMAND TO KNOW!" She stood up and shook the gravy-coated piece of meat from her blonde hair.  
  
Normally, the situation would make the three of them burst out laughing. Timothy glanced over at Darian, who was making an effort not to look. John looked at them both expectantly, waiting for a reaction. But no one uttered a single giggle, and they continued to eat silently as Carla continued to berate her entire table for a confession.  
  
  
The night before the first game, Timothy sat on the edge of his bed and stared down at the old key that was the first clue to his quest. There was no one to talk to about it; John was having a lesson with Peacecraft and Darian was anywhere but where Timothy was. He sighed loudly, thinking back to his parents and how much he missed them. What would they say to comfort him about this quest if he were to tell them? But he couldn't… they would never believe him.  
  
He laid back on his bed, rolling the key around in his fingers, when a thought occurred to him. Perhaps his uncle's diary could bring him some piece of mind. He put away the key and reached under his pillow to pull out the worn book. Flipping a few pages, he landed on one that he hadn't read before:  
  
What should I do? My friend Jason got mad at me today because I transfigured our coconut into a crab quicker than he did. Even though he could do it too, while a lot of other kids in our class didn't even get it to change red, Jason still got mad and now he won't talk to me. It's real weird, 'cause we always hang out and now he ignores me when he can. Mom says I should apologize, but dad argued that there was nothing for me to apologize for. 'He's just jealous' James told me. He's right, I guess. But how long do I have to wait alone until Jason realizes that himself?  
~Timothy Springs  
1979  
  
The similarities were startling. Again, his uncle had faced some problems very much like he was having. While the entry didn't help him on what it was he could do, it was comforting to know that his uncle was in the same situation once before. Darian was jealous, and Timothy realized that he just had to wait for him to admit it. Perhaps after that, their friendship would be saved.  
  
The door opened and Darian quietly walked in. Timothy quickly shut the diary and dropped it in his pocket along with the key. Darian didn't so much as glance at him as he got his pajamas on and pulled the curtains around his bed before climbing inside. When the only sounds were of Darian's regular breathing, Timothy sighed and pulled his covers over him without changing.  
  
Perhaps things will change tomorrow, once we win. He thought as he fell asleep.  
  
  
Everyone in Gryffindor was excited and energetic the following morning. Bran woke Timothy and Darian up early so that the team could discuss the upcoming game over breakfast before the crowd. However, they could hardly hear themselves think as they ate for the entire school had woken up early in the anticipation of the first match.  
  
"Be sure and eat everything," Walters yawned, pushing his eggs around with a fork. "We all need to be at our best out there."  
  
"I'm at my best every time I'm out there." Timothy heard Darian grumble from across the table. He had been hoping that the jitters before the game would allow him and Darian to reconcile their differences, but Darian continued his ignorance. Bran noticed Timothy staring at him and leaned over to whisper:  
  
"So, what's up with you two, 'eh? You don't speak anymore outside the pitch."  
  
Timothy shrugged and munched on a piece of toast.  
  
"He ain't jealous of you, is he?" Bran whispered while looking over at Darian, who was hunched over his plate.  
  
"I 'spose." Timothy said with relief to be talking to someone about the problem.  
  
"Ah, don't worry 'bout it. Once we win and he realizes how much of a difference he makes, he'll come crawling back and beg forgiveness. You just wait." Bran went back to his eggs.  
  
Timothy considered that thought a moment, thinking that that just might happen, when someone tapped his shoulder. It was Professor Peacecraft, and she looked very grim.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" he asked slowly. Darian looked up momentarily from his plate.  
  
"I need to speak with you, do you have a moment?"  
  
"Er…" he looked over at Walters, who had a vague curious expression on his face. "Yeah, sure."  
  
He got up and followed her to the door while Darian went back to his food. Once outside the Great Hall, Peacecraft immediately put a silencing spell around them so that no one would overhear.  
  
"Something has happened." She said grimly.  
  
"Is my family Ok?" Timothy immediately felt scared, afraid that Malfoy had found his family and something dreadful had happened.  
  
To his relief, she gave him a faint smile.  
  
"No, you're family is perfectly alright. But I'm afraid the same does not apply for John's." Peacecraft frowned as she finished her sentence.  
  
"What happened? Where is John, anyway?"  
  
"Death Eaters attacked his parents' home last night. John's parents were hit several times with the Cruciatus curse. Fortunately, they weren't killed. By the time some aurors from the Circle showed up, the Death Eaters were gone. John has gone to be with them at St. Mungo's."  
  
Timothy took a deep breath of relief.  
  
"Timothy, I have a feeling this may have something to do with that Tuvok woman. I'm not sure how or why, but please stay very clear of her today. This incident may not be just coincidence that it should take John away at this time." Peacecraft warned him.  
  
"What does an attack on John's parents have to do with Tuvok?"  
  
"To get John away. He's the only other empath here at Hogwarts. There is no reason for me to be anywhere close to her, and only John gets close because of you. Without John close to you, you won't be able to sense if she's going to do something. However, I can go down to the pitch today with the excuse to watch the match. Perhaps I can find out more about her. Just keep out of her way, understand?"  
  
"Yes, Professor." Timothy replied.  
  
"Now, good luck on the game. Try not to worry."  
  
"I will." He turned to go back into the Great Hall.  
  
"Oh, and Timothy?"  
  
He looked back at her.  
  
"Darian doesn't realize how he's acting. Just be there for him as a friend, and he'll eventually come around."  
  
Timothy nodded, furrowing his brow, and walked back inside.  
  
  
He tried his best to warm up to Darian throughout the day, but he merely shrugged him off. Eventually Timothy gave up and left him alone, trying hard to concentrate on his lessons but without avail. When it finally came time to get ready for the match, Timothy quickly gathered his uniform and his broom to get out onto the pitch.  
  
In the locker room, Walters gave the team a last pep talk before the din of voices from the crowd out in the stands became too distracting and he dismissed them to file outside. Darian remained silent the whole time, clutching his broom and his Beater's stick, in line right behind Walters. They walked out first, closely followed by the Chasers- Pena, Jane, and Dole. Albus Moran, the Keeper, walked out next, giving Timothy a small wink as he fell into place behind him.  
  
"And here comes the GRYFFINDOR TEAM!" shouted Will Parry, the commentator.  
  
The applause startled Timothy, walking out onto the pitch and seeing the normally empty stands brimming with nearly every student in the school. He had been too upset about last year's try-outs to come to a game, so this was a new experience.  
  
Albus noticed Timothy's awe and laughed.  
  
"Going to catch the Snitch with your mouth, 'eh?"  
  
Timothy snapped out of his stare and laughed nervously.  
  
"Oh, er… no, hah hah."  
  
He tried to casually look around for Tuvok, but she was no where in sight. There were several people in the commentator's box, but only Will could be seen.  
  
"Players to your marks!"  
  
Both teams walked onto the field. Timothy took a nervous swallow, glancing at Darian who was wearing an expression mixed of nerves and determination.  
  
"Hey, Potter!"  
  
Timothy looked over to the Slytherin team, and nearly felt nauseous as he spotted Carla Haughton sneering at him.  
  
"Not so tough now, huh?" she crowed.  
  
"Shut your trap, Haughton! Just play the game." Timothy growled back.  
  
"I'll be sure to save a Bludger just for you, Potter." She mocked, just as Professor Mali walked onto the field.  
  
"Mount your brooms!" she bellowed.  
  
Timothy did so with ease, feeling better at the thought of doing the sport he loved.  
  
The whistle blew and they shot into the air. As Timothy flew higher than everyone, he saw Darian already attacking a Bludger and sending it straight to one of Slytherin's chasers. The chaser blocked it, but Darian was throwing them back at an impressive speed. Timothy forced himself to go back to looking for the Snitch. After several minutes into the game, Slytherin was winning by ten points. The crowd cried and called, encouraging all the players to give it they're all. It wasn't until Pena scored twice in a row, bringing the score to favor Gryffindor by ten, that Timothy spotted it. The Snitch was hovering close to where Haughton was beating a Bludger at Pena. If he was careful, he could move up on it without the Slytherin seeker realizing.  
  
Gripping his Dragonsfire tightly, Timothy picked up speed and maneuvered around the other players, gaining on Haughton and the Snitch. Just when he thought he was going to make it without a problem, she spotted him. The look on her face was that of triumph, and she swung an oncoming Bludger straight at him.  
  
"Ahhhhhhh!" Timothy cried, too stunned to move out of the way.  
  
"Timothy!"  
  
Out of nowhere, just as the Bludger came close to hitting Timothy straight on, Darian rammed him out of the way at his side and swung the Bludger away just in time. Timothy spiraled on his broom for a moment, his arm swinging out and his hand caught something. When he stopped and looked at his hand, the golden Snitch was struggling in his grasp.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR HAS THE SNITCH! POTTER HAS THE SNITCH! GAME OVER! GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Will shouted.  
  
More than half the students in the stands got to their feet and cheered. Timothy was still trying to recover when his team swarmed around him, slapping his back in triumph. They landed in a heap on the field, and only then did Timothy start to laugh in realization. They won! His first game and they won!  
  
After several more good-hearted pats on the back, the team began to file back to the locker room. Only Darian stood off to the side, shuffling his feet and looking coolly at Timothy. Uncertainly, Timothy walked over to him, not looking him in the eyes.  
  
"Er… thanks. Thanks for… you know…" he ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"Yeah, well… it's my job." Darian muttered.  
  
"The look on Haughton's face was classic though, right?" Timothy looked up at him, grinning slightly.  
  
Darian couldn't help but let a grin loose.  
  
"Yeah, never heard her curse so much."  
  
The tension began to loosen.  
  
"If it weren't for you, my face would be permanently smashed in." Timothy smiled.  
  
"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have caught the Snitch either." Darian smiled back.  
  
"We won, Darian, we won."  
  
"Yeah, we did."  
  
They stared at each other and then burst out laughing.  
  
"I sure showed everyone!" Darian cried.  
  
"It didn't take the game to prove to me that you were a good player." Timothy said.  
  
Darian quieted and turned red.  
  
"Hey, er… I'm sorry. I was a jerk, it really wasn't you. It was Walters and Tuvok."  
  
"Apology accepted." Timothy grinned, relieved to have his friend back.  
  
They laughed again until Timothy saw Will Parry walking up to them.  
  
"Hey Timothy! Timothy! You're wanted up in the box!"  
  
Darian snorted.  
  
"What? They going to give you a trophy already?"  
  
Timothy glared at him and rolled his eyes.  
  
"Don't start that up again, you big git."  
  
"Why?" Timothy called to Will.  
  
"Just go on up there, and hurry up!"  
  
He looked to Darian, who shrugged, and made his way up to the commentator's box. At first glance, there was no one inside. However, when he opened the door-  
  
"CONGRATULATIONS!"  
  
Timothy jumped. His parents, his sister, his godparents, their children, Great Uncle Us, and Lupin appeared right before his eyes. Before he could so much as blink, his father had him in his arms.  
  
"I'm so proud of you! Fantastic!"  
  
Timothy flushed. Kalina knocked into both of them, laughing.  
  
"You almost fell! Hah hah!"  
  
"Ah, but he has his father's reflexes!" his great uncle exclaimed proudly.  
  
"Only a Potter could move like that!" Lupin beamed.  
  
"Thank God you're alright!" his mother pried him from his father and fussed over him.  
  
"Mum, I'm Ok, really!" Timothy fought to get loose.  
  
"He'll be sure to play for the Cannons, eh Harry?" his godfather laughed, coming over to ruffle Timothy's hair. He was holding one of their new twins, a boy with a wisp of red hair.  
  
"Is that…?" Timothy began to ask.  
  
"Oh, that's right! You haven't met the twins yet, have you? Well, this is Talon." His godfather smiled.  
  
"Hello, Talon." Timothy grinned, amused at such an odd name.  
  
"Aunt Hermione has Nayru."  
  
His godmother came up and gave him a careful hug, holding a baby girl with an equal set of red hair.  
  
"You flew wonderfully, Timothy. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was your dad up their flying today!"  
  
Timothy flushed once more as his father put his arms around him again.  
  
"That's my boy!"  
  
"Can you teach me how to play good, Timothy?" Joseph Weasley tugged at his uniform.  
  
"Er, sure… next time school's out." Timothy smiled.  
  
"Sorry to head out real quick," his great uncle said solemnly. "My watch is flashing that I'm needed back at the Circle."  
  
"We better go too, the twins have to be fed soon and I'm sure no one wants to watch that." His godfather grinned.  
  
"Ron!" his godmother exclaimed playfully.  
  
"I have a few detentions to take care of," Lupin said, patting Timothy on the back. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."  
  
They left after a round of hugs and good byes, until only his parents and Kalina were left.  
  
"Do you have to go now too?" Timothy asked, not wanting his family to leave just yet.  
  
"We can hang out until after dinner, if that's alright with you?" his father smiled.  
  
"Yes!" Timothy shouted, and they made their way out of the pitch and toward the castle.  
  
"I didn't expect you to come at all, least of all Great Uncle Us and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione." Timothy said as they walked across the grounds.  
  
"We all wouldn't have missed it for the world." His father grinned proudly.  
  
"Your grandparents would have come, only Granddad accidentally blew up the fireplace trying to hex some opossums that made a home in there since last summer." His mother retorted.  
  
Timothy laughed at the thought until Kalina yelped.  
  
"Daddy! Daddy, a snake!"  
  
She leapt into his arms as they all stopped dead in their tracks. Timothy's heart skipped a beat as he began to dread that it just wasn't any ordinary snake, but the one that belonged to John's vision. He backed up into his mother instinctively and she put his arms around him protectively.  
  
"Where is it, Harry?" she asked his father.  
  
"Where's the snake, Kalina? Where is it, honey?" he tried to console her.  
  
Kalina pointed at the grass in front of them.  
  
"Make it go away, daddy, make it go away!"  
  
They all peered carefully in the grass, and, sure enough, there it was. A long, black snake coiled and glaring up at them all. Timothy shuddered.  
  
"Tell it to go away, dad." His voice was dry.  
  
"Now, now… it's only just a harmless black snake." His father said soothingly to them all. He concentrated on it and began to hiss, moving into the language of parseltounge. After a few chilling moments, his father stopped and looked back at them, puzzled.  
  
"That's odd," he said, turning to look back at the snake, which was slowly starting to slither off. "It didn't say anything back. The slimy things are usually very talkative."  
  
That's 'cause it's not an ordinary snake. Timothy shuddered again. His mother squeezed his shoulders gently.  
  
"No need to be afraid, it's gone now, right Harry?" she said brightly.  
  
"Is it, daddy? Is it gone?" Kalina clutched his throat.  
  
"Yes, sweetheart, it's gone. No worries." He pried her off of him and set her back on the ground.  
  
They continued on to the castle, the snake long gone, but it was a long time before the blood returned to Timothy's cheeks.  
  
  
Timothy finally forgot about the snake after laughing and eating with his family at dinner. Not only was the entire Gryffindor house on a high about winning the match, nearly every eye in the school was on his parents as they ate at the Gryffindor table. His parents were used to the attention, but it was funny to Timothy for he had never seen so many people stare with their mouths gaping open with food halfway to their mouths. Kalina was beside herself with glee, begging their parents to let her stay. They merely laughed and told her that she would be a student soon enough.  
  
"But that's years away!" she complained.  
  
Much to his dismay, their visit had to end. He bade them goodbye as they stepped into a large fireplace set up with Floo powder in the Great Hall, consoled only with the knowledge that he'd see them in a few months for Christmas. As much as he loved Hogwarts, he missed being away from his family for so long.  
  
John still had not returned from seeing his parents, so Darian and Timothy took some seats alone in the common room to talk about the game before bed that evening.  
  
"Looks like all those practice matches Walters made us do against each other helped after all." Darian said, twirling his wand between his fingers.  
  
"Yeah." Timothy smiled.  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry again, man. For… for, you know, what I did." Darian flushed slightly.  
  
"Don't worry about it. We all act stupid once in a while." Timothy threw a pillow at him.  
  
They laughed while Ben came up suddenly with a bemused expression.  
  
"Hey, er… Timothy? Or Darian? Whichever of you owns that silly yellow owl, you have a letter from it back up in the room."  
  
Timothy and Darian exchanged curious looks before shrugging and moving to go upstairs.  
  
"Bit quick for your parents to be sending letters, eh?" Darian said as they went up the spiral staircase.  
  
Timothy shrugged and they entered their dorm room. Jeff was sitting on Timothy's bed with a letter by his talons.  
  
"Hey Jeff," Timothy patted him on the head and took the letter. "Note from home already?"  
  
Much to his surprise, Jeff didn't say a word and took off through the window silently. Timothy looked at Darian in shock, both of them exchanging dumbfounded expressions.  
  
"What's his problem?"   
  
"Got me," Timothy frowned, looking down at the letter. "Maybe mum yelled at him or something and he's upset. Although, he usually mouths it off to me when that happens."  
  
"Maybe the note will give light to the problem." Darian suggested, pointing to the letter in his hand. Nodding, Timothy opened the envelope and took out a small piece of parchment. It read:  
  
Timothy-   
I've discovered something. Please meet me in the library tonight at 12 o'clock. Come alone, this does not concern Darian.  
John  
  
"Well," Darian pressed. "What does it say?"  
  
Timothy read the note over a few times before looking up at him.  
  
"It's from John,"  
  
"John? Isn't he still at St. Mungo's?" he tried to take the note from him, but Timothy kept it from his reach.  
  
"He wants me to meet him in the library tonight at midnight."  
  
"Why?" Darian stopped pursuing him.  
  
"Don't know, he wants me to go alone."  
  
"Now why wouldn't he want me to come?" Darian asked hotly.  
  
Timothy could only shrug. He suddenly felt cold and shivered. Something wasn't right.  
  
"Something's fishy," Darian narrowed his eyes. "You sure it's from John?"  
  
He handed the note to Darian and he read it carefully.  
  
"Well, it looks like his handwriting. But it doesn't sound like him. Maybe I should follow you."  
  
"No," Timothy thought a moment, looking at his watch. "When I go, you go and get Professor Peacecraft. Whatever it is, she'll need to know."  
  
"You sure? Timothy, I have… and I can't believe I'm saying this, but… I have a funny feeling about this." Darian cracked a nervous grin.  
  
"Well then, it must be bad if you admit to that." Timothy grinned back at him.   
  
  
Five minutes before midnight, Timothy and Darian slipped out with Timothy's inherited invisibility cloak. Hagrid only snorted in his slumber as his portrait swung closed seemingly by itself. When they reached the main staircase, Timothy pulled the cloak off of them and they split up.  
  
"Careful, man." Darian whispered, moving off toward Peacecraft's office.  
  
Timothy gave him a thumb up and headed toward the library. Everything was eerily silent as he moved on his way. There was an ominous still to the air as the library got closer. When he got to the large oak door labeled LIBRARY, he pulled on the large knob and went inside. The door wasn't even entirely closed when he walked clear into something small and soft.  
  
"Ahhhh!"  
  
"Ahhhh!"  
  
"Lumos!"  
  
"Lumos!"  
  
Light sparked up on the spot from two wands, and Timothy found himself looking down at Luna Dine. She was white as a sheet from being startled, holding a large leather-bound book close to her body with her free hand as she panted to catch her breath.  
  
"What are you doing here?" they both hissed at the same time.  
  
"You tell me."  
  
"You tell me!"  
  
"None of your business!" they growled at each other in union.  
  
An awkward pause followed as they stared each other down, waiting for the other to make their move. When neither of them so much as twitched, steadying their breaths, Timothy scowled.  
  
"Can you leave now?"  
  
"I'll leave when I want to." Luna muttered stiffly.  
  
"How 'bout now?" Timothy grumbled.  
  
"No, I have every right to be here as you do." She countered.  
  
"You're not supposed to be here at this time of night." Timothy pointed a finger at her.  
  
"Neither are you." Luna stared up at him defiantly. She was no longer the meek little girl from the previous year. Now, Timothy stared back into a pair of green eyes that were hardened by pain and anger.  
  
He opened his mouth to argue, but found no words. His mouth hung open and Luna nodded with satisfaction. However, they still didn't move.  
  
"Can you move?" Timothy miffed.  
  
"No problem." Luna took one step to the side, glaring at him.  
  
"Thanks." He mocked. Luna snorted at him.  
  
Timothy ignored her and glanced at his watch. 12:10- John should have been there already. He wandered around the library, feeling an occasional gaze from Luna. Finally, when his watch read 12:45, Timothy threw up his hands in exasperation.  
  
"This must be his idea of a joke," he laughed. "Well, keeping me up this late after a game sure isn't funny to me."  
  
Luna suddenly let out a loud gasp, and Timothy whirled around to see her backing up quickly against a wall. He walked briskly over to her to see what was wrong, and then he saw her.  
  
"Sorry I'm late," said a cool Russian-accented voice. "I had some things to take care of so that we wouldn't be interrupted."  
  
"Tuvok." Timothy's voice squeaked. It didn't take an empath to feel the sudden malice coming from this beautiful woman. She walked toward him, making Timothy back up into Luna. Both of them were shaking as she stepped into a ray of moonlight from a nearby window.  
  
"Oh, please, don't call me that. I'm so tired of that name. Let me properly introduce myself as Veronica. Veronica Murtov." Her voice droned lazily.  
  
"I knew you weren't a talent scout." Timothy tried to sound brave, but it wasn't working.   
  
"Ah, and aren't you the smart one? Yes, well, you've certainly have made a mess of things. I was supposed to take care of you a lot sooner, but that infernal empath friend of yours got in the way. Yet I worked around him. That idiot boy named Hall was also a tool… tear your friendship apart and you would be alone- without allies. The first game was supposed to finalize my plan, but your retched parents had to be there! I couldn't do anything in front of them, not to mention having that other empath teacher on the field! Then you had to go and make up with that stupid boy and my work was ruined! The next leader of the Dark Age has entrusted me, there's no way on Earth I will fail. I get rid of you, he gets rid of your parents. Then I become his partner, and together we'll rid the world of the impurities as one!"  
  
Timothy felt sick. There was nothing he could do. He was totally at the mercy of this deranged power-hungry woman and his destiny had failed. This woman was going to kill him. Dread filled him from head to toe. His parents would be killed. His sister, everyone he loved, would soon be destroyed too. All because he had to doubt and dawdle and deny what he had to do. Without any control, he felt a tear roll down his cheek.  
  
"Not so tough after all, huh? I can't see why Malfoy couldn't destroy you. You aren't half of what your parents are. You're nothing but an empty celebrity for no reason other than name." Murtov leaned close to him.  
  
Timothy lost control.  
  
"You just wait! My parents will get you! Once Peacecraft gets here the whole school will be awake and notified, and my parents will be here faster than you can say 'not-guilty'!"  
  
Murtov only laughed.  
  
"Oh really? Rest assured, little one, I've made sure our little get together here goes undisturbed. Besides, how can anyone save you if you're not even here to be saved?"  
  
Timothy bit his lip, confused and frightened, as Murtov drew out her wand. Luna grabbed his arm and he made no move to dislodge her, too concentrated on Murtov to care.  
  
"Time to put you where you couldn't possibly come back to ruin my plans! A friend of mine is very eager to meet you. Consider yourself lucky you get a traveling companion, Potter, Malfoy will be most pleased to know that I took care of that fool behind you as well."  
  
Before Timothy could pull out his wand in a feeble attempt to protect them, Murtov arched her wand over her head, building power from the beginnings of a spell-  
  
"Historicatim Bandiosa!"  
  
Timothy was hit square in the stomach by a force that felt as if a building was rammed into him. Wind began to scream past his ears, as well as his own yells and Luna's own screams. He felt himself falling backward, backward and backward for what seemed like an eternity. The library disappeared in a flash of white light and a swirling vertex of black and white filled his vision. His stomach dropped down to his feet it seemed, and the pressure pushing him back did not ease. Then suddenly, after it felt like he was going to loose consciousness, the pressure ceased and he free-felled to land in a heap on hard ground. The wind was knocked out of him, made worse when Luna suddenly appeared above him and landed flat on his stomach. She panted laboriously, her short hair falling into Timothy's gasping mouth and making it even more difficult for him to breath. He began to hit her roughly in the side to push her off.  
  
"Ow, hey!" Luna rolled to land beside him. Timothy quickly sat up, hitting his chest until finally he managed to suck in air into his lungs.  
  
"Idiot!" He cried, gasping. "I couldn't breathe!"  
  
"Well you didn't have to beat me up!" Luna retorted angrily.  
  
They glared at each other while Timothy caught his breath, then finally took notice that they were no longer in the library.  
  
"Where are we?" Luna asked, fear edging in her voice.  
  
They were lying across a dirt path at the edge of a forest and a large expanse of meadow.  
  
"Doesn't look like Hogwarts, that's for sure." Timothy whispered, looking around.  
  
"Uhmm, Timothy?" Luna squeaked suddenly, looking behind him.  
  
"What?" he turned, only to be looking dead on at the blade of a sword.  
  
"Thieves!" cried the owner of the sword, a knight dressed in full armor.  
  
"I believe we're definitely not at Hogwarts." Luna whispered fearfully.  
  
"Really? What makes you say that?" Timothy asked sarcastically.  
  
"Thieves!" the knight accused again, pressing the blade closer to Timothy's neck.  
  
"Not thieves," Timothy said to him carefully. "Students."  
  
He didn't even see the iron-gloved hand come at him when the world went black.  
  
  
  
A/N: Whoa, cliffhanger! Well? Surprising, huh? Ever expect this to happen? The good thing to know is, that I did! I have the whole story planned, unlike my others. So, where are they? Or... should I ask, when are they? Muhahahahah! Don't worry, it'll be good, I promise. Just be sure to tell me what you think in a nice little review below, only take ya a sec. Peachies? Alrighty! I'll try very hard to get 9 up before spring break ends :-(... school is evil, especially when there is an evil little report card waiting for me there. OK, gotta go!  
  
http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com  
Lot's of new stuff, updated often, go check it out!  
  
~OrcaPotter 


	9. Future Meets Past

A/N: Hey! Now, if this chapter isn't interesting, I don't know what is. Mundo juicy info and goings-on that surprised even myself as I came up with it! Please, let me know how you're liking this, I know you're reading! Review! There will be info in an A/N at the end regarding some things in this chapter, but right now, READ and ENJOY!   
  
  
  
Chapter Nine: Future Meets Past  
  
  
"Timothy, Timothy wake up!"  
  
His head felt as if it was split in two. Everything was still black and his body ached while being rocked violently from side to side.  
  
"C'mon, wake up!"  
  
Timothy groaned and lifted his hand to feel his head. He felt something wet around his bangs and when he opened his eyes just enough to see his fingers, they were covered in blood.  
  
"What happened?" he struggled to sit up, but the rocking motion kept making him sprawl flat on his stomach.  
  
"That knight popped you a good one back there," Luna's voice whispered in his ear. "An unprovoked attack if you ask me. As for where we are, we're on the back of a cart."  
  
He strained to keep his eyes open. Daylight burned through his eyelids only confusing him more. It had been nighttime at Hogwarts, how come they were suddenly outside and in daylight? And what about the knight? There weren't any knights at Hogwarts except for the suits of armor littered around the corridors.  
  
"Luna, we've got to get out of here." Timothy muttered, straining his arms to keep him still as the cart rumbled over some stones.  
  
"Kinda hard to do that with the walking tin cans around us." She whispered hoarsely.  
  
"There's more of them?"  
  
"About five, and they all think we're thieves. I tried to ask them what it was we have supposed to have stolen, but they don't say a word." Luna explained desperately.  
  
"Do you know where they're taking us?" Timothy whispered back.  
  
"No."  
  
"You still have your wand?" Timothy asked with a sudden idea.  
  
After a moment's pause, Luna nodded.  
  
"Yes… but… we can't use magic! We're not on school property and we'll get in trouble with the Ministry for using unsupervised magic!"  
  
Timothy rolled his eyes, feeling around in his robes for his own wand.  
  
"Think about it, Luna. Don't you think there's an exception to the rule in this situation?"  
  
"If we get in trouble it's all your fault." Luna grumbled reluctantly, readying her wand for Timothy's instructions.  
  
"By all means be my guest," Timothy flipped on his back. "Just yell out the first spell that comes to mind on my mark, got it?"  
  
She nodded and set her eyes in determination.  
  
"NOW!"  
  
With shots of red sparks, Timothy shouted the jelly-legs spell and Luna cried out the spell for levitation. The knight walking to the side of the cart was suddenly shot a full fifty feet straight up into the air, and the knight walking behind them began to wobble and fell face flat into the dirt road.  
  
"Run! Run for the trees! Run!" Timothy scooted off the cart and bolted back up the path. Luna wasn't far behind, but couldn't catch up because she was simply too short. The three remaining knights who were in front of the cart began to draw their swords and cry out to them to stop.  
  
"WITCH!"  
  
"DEMONS!"  
  
"STOP!"  
  
Because of their armor, they did not give chase, but that didn't stop Timothy and Luna from running as fast as they could toward the forest they had landed beside before the knights apprehended them.  
  
"Hurry up!" Timothy called over his shoulder to Luna. "C'mon!"  
  
"I'm… running… as fast… as I can… you git!" she panted.  
  
After ten minutes of running, however, the forest was only starting to become visible on the horizon. Timothy's muscles ached, but he was determined not to stop until he found refuge from the knights should they show up again. There was a soft thud behind him and he slowed down just enough to look over his shoulder. Luna had collapsed to her knees, gasping for air.  
  
"Can't… can't… too tired. Stop here… please?"  
  
Timothy stopped and ran back to her, running his hands through his hair and wincing at the pain on his forehead from the gash the knight had left when he had hit him.  
  
"It's only a little ways ahead, you can make it. C'mon, you can do it." He gently pulled up on her arm to help her to her feet. With a little resistance, she tried to keep up at a brisk walk in his wake. All the while he encouraged her on. "That's it… just a little further."  
  
Finally, they reached the edge of the forest, and nearly collapsed under the first tree they came to. Luna leaned against the trunk, doubled over on her knees, trying to calm her breathing. Timothy himself closed his eyes to try to make sense of everything. What had happened? Tuvok- no… Murtov cursed them both with a spell he had never heard before. What did she do? Did she banish them to some sort of tourist attraction in the country gone horribly wrong? Maybe there weren't even in England anymore, perhaps France. Did France still have medieval knights walking around accusing people of being thieves and whacking them across the face without question? No, that was a stupid thought, the knights spoke English. No… no, it wasn't a matter of where… it was when.   
  
"Luna," he muttered hoarsely. "Luna, I don't think it's the year 2020 anymore."  
  
She looked up at him, red in the eyes.  
  
"That woman sent us back in time, then. That explains the knights. But, how far back in time?"  
  
Timothy swallowed hard, wanting Luna to had argued with him. If they were in fact back in time… who knew what would happen? Malfoy would take over the wizarding world, eventually eliminating all the half-bloods, Muggle-borns, and eventually all the Muggles themselves. His family would be killed. And himself and Luna? What were they to do? Murtov had said there was a friend of hers who wanted to meet them… they had to get out of the area, and fast.  
  
"Let's find out, we can't stay here. No doubt Murtov's friend will be by soon to 'meet' us." Timothy struggled to his feet.   
  
Luna didn't move.  
  
"Where're we gonna go, huh? If we are back in time, there's no place to go! Everyone we know hasn't been born yet… we haven't even been born yet."  
  
Timothy tried hard to keep his patience, his head aching from being knocked out and his entire body sore from running.  
  
"Look, you want to meet up with whoever comes walking over here to kill us, that's fine with me. I'm going to go look for a town or something where I can get some answers." He stared at her a moment, then began to walk onto the path.  
  
"How come you're so rude?!" Luna cried, on all fours on the grass and glaring at him.  
  
"How come you're so nasty all of a sudden?" he countered, hands on his hips.  
  
Their eyes met for a moment, then Luna suddenly burst into tears. Timothy blanched, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to come up with something to say that would calm her. Luna curled up into a ball on the grass, body shaking as she sobbed.  
  
"I… I didn't mean…" he ran his hands through his hair.  
  
She continued to cry, shaking her head and mumbling words that made no sense. Timothy was beside himself, feeling ashamed for being so cold to her and indifferent from how she must have felt. It wasn't like him at all to act that way toward someone, but the dramatic change in Luna's behavior made him loose his patience amongst his own fears. He stood there, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet as he awkwardly watched Luna pour every tear. Finally, guilt overtook him and he got on his knees, rubbing her back gently like his parents would do when he was upset.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, hanging his head. "I'm just scared too."  
  
"Oh Timothy!" she suddenly got up and flung her arms around his neck, now sobbing into his shoulder. "Timothy, I'm so scared! I'm all alone! Everything's my fault!"  
  
Timothy grimaced, feeling his uniform sleeve become damp with her tears and gasping as she clung to his neck.  
  
"It's not your fault! It was Murtov who did this. And you're not alone, we're here together and we're going to get back together."  
  
After a few moments, Luna's cry became a whimper, until finally she stopped and pulled away from Timothy. She avoided his eyes, most likely feeling embarrassed.   
  
"Well, let's… let's go find… let's go…"  
  
"It'll be alright, c'mon." Timothy smiled shyly and got up. After a moment, Luna followed suit, and the two of them began to walk down the path in the other direction. By the look of the sun, Timothy observed, it was past mid-day. They kept a weary eye out for anyone pursuing them and ducked away at one point when a very large old red headed man rushed up the path on horseback. He was dressed, sure enough, in medieval attire. By the looks of him, he must have been some sort of lord. Timothy got a bad feeling from him as he went past, and breathed easier once the rider was out of sight in the other direction. Heading back down the path as the light outside began to dwindle, Timothy could just make out firelight on the horizon.  
  
"Look! I think I see something!" he tugged on Luna's arm.  
  
She shaded her eyes from the setting sun and looked where he was pointing. Picking up their pace, the sight of a village came into view. Straw-roofed huts and wood-shingled houses with lighted windows were clustered around the path road. The strong smell of hay, dirt, and other smells that were too disgusting to think about filled their noses as they reached the first hut. People, or peasants Timothy figured, were busily going about their business.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," Timothy walked up to a man about his father's age, all muddy and smelling strongly of manure. "Can you tell me what town this is?"  
  
The man took one look at him and Luna and wrinkled his nose as if it were them that smelled bad.  
  
"Eh, go back where yeh came from! This town don't need the likes of you." And he walked off.  
  
"So much for medieval courtesy." Timothy mumbled, watching the man go.  
  
"That is medieval courtesy," Luna said, tugging on his arm to keep moving. "We're lucky he didn't stone us to death in welcome."  
  
As they walked further into the village, the various peasants that were walking about stopped and stared as they went past. The looks on their faces made Timothy nervous, it was as if they expected him and Luna to suddenly explode.  
  
"Timothy," Luna whispered up to his ear as they kept walking. "You don't think that they think that we're thieves too, do you?"  
  
He shrugged, letting out a slow unsteady breath as Luna walked closer against him. They both tried to act casual, trying to ignore the uncomfortable stares from the townsfolk, when Timothy noticed something.  
  
"Our uniforms. Our Hogwarts uniforms, they make us stand out. Maybe that's why they're staring, they're Muggles after all."  
  
"Should we take them off and hide them somewhere?" Luna asked.  
  
Before he could answer, there was a shrill scream ahead of them and a lot of gasps. They ran up to the commotion to see a small boy trapped under a cart in a muddy part of the path road. His mother was wailing and crying, pacing around the cart and yelling for help. But none of the onlookers made any move to assist the boy, who was turning blue from lack of air.  
  
"Help! Please, someone help my little boy, please! Please, someone do something!" the mother begged.  
  
"Why isn't anyone helping her?" Luna asked, shocked.  
  
Timothy looked around quickly to see if anyone was coming to help, but not a soul made a move. When the mother began to sob loudly, the boy no longer moving, Timothy pulled his wand out.  
  
"Timothy! We can't…!" Luna cried, pulling back on his robes.  
  
"We just can't stand here and watch the boy die!" he pulled himself free and fought his way to the front of the crowd. Half of his mind was screaming to stop, but the sight of the dying boy made him ready his wand anyway and shout "Wingardium Leviosa!"  
  
The cart instantly began to rumble and rose ten feet into the air. Everyone watching was shell shocked, staring with gaping mouths up at the cart. The mother, too, was frozen in place, looking up at the cart with all color lost. When still no one moved, Timothy pocketed his wand quickly and pulled the boy from his spot. The boy began to gasp and sputter, normal color rushing back to his cheeks. Timothy was relieved, for he didn't know CPR if the boy needed it. After a moment, the cart crashed back down into place. Everyone was dead silent.  
  
"Well, er… ma'am?" Timothy dragged the boy over to her as she blinked doubtfully at him. "Your little boy will be OK now."  
  
She suddenly grabbed the boy with one movement and recoiled away from him in utter horror. Timothy started and Luna came to stand beside him, shaking her head.  
  
"Er… Timothy? I think we need to get out of here, like… right now!"  
  
Timothy looked around them as the other onlookers wore the same expression as the mother. He swallowed quickly and got to his feet.  
  
"DEMONS!"  
  
"WITCHES!"  
  
"SORCERORS!"  
  
"Kill them! Kill them!"  
  
"Burn them! Burn them!"  
  
"Get them! Don't let them get away!"  
  
"RUN!" Timothy yelled, grabbing Luna's hand and taking off at full speed through the crowd before they could organize. They zigzagged past carts full of dirt and hay, stands selling produce, knocking down other people as they ran past. All the while, the crowd of onlookers-turned-angry mob grabbed pitchforks and large wooden poles as they ran after them.  
  
"What are we going to do?!" Luna cried helplessly, looking back over her shoulder. "They're gonna kill us!"  
  
"Just keep running! We'll find a place to hide!" Timothy began to pant.  
  
They came to a three-way intersection in the path road, slowing down as they hesitated on which way to go. The uproar from the mob behind them got the attention of the other villagers, and men began to rush out of huts and houses toward them. Hesitating proved to be a mistake, for the momentary pause before they started running again was just enough for them to become surrounded. Timothy let go of Luna and whirled around on his heels, frantically searching for a place to hide. But there was none, and soon they were both encircled by the angry mob.  
  
"Timothy!" Luna cried, clutching on to him.  
  
"Quick! What spell do you think will make them go away?" he pulled out his wand again.  
  
"I don't know! And using magic only makes things worse, if you haven't noticed!" Luna muttered impatiently.  
  
"WITCHES!"  
  
"SORCERORS!"  
  
"Die! Die! Die!"  
  
"Burn the evil doers! Evil! Evil!"  
  
Timothy was too frightened to get his mind to think clearly enough to come up with a spell that would help. Magic or not, these people clearly didn't want him and Luna around. Their uniforms weren't helping either; there was no way to prove now that they weren't a witch and wizard.  
  
"Let's hang 'em and set 'em on fire!" shouted a woman who had stepped forward with her pitchfork, glaring at Timothy menacingly.  
  
Oh, God no… Timothy moaned in his mind.  
  
"I say we tie them to rocks and throw them in the lake!" an old man with wobbly knees cried.  
  
"Let's just eat them!" yelled an elderly lady. To Timothy's horror, the crowd murmured in agreement.  
  
"We're gonna die!" Luna began to cry, fingernails digging into Timothy's arm.  
  
Just as the circle of human-hungry peasants began to pounce on them, Luna now clinging to Timothy like a third arm and both of them shaking as they cringed in utter fear, someone jumped out in front of them.  
  
"Get back! Leave 'em be! I'm warning you!"  
  
Timothy opened one eye carefully to see a young man, about several years older than him, putting himself between Timothy and Luna and the mob.  
  
"He's one of 'em!" the mob shouted, advancing faster.  
  
Instinctively, Timothy and Luna stumbled backward, but the young man stood his ground. He rose his hand high above his head, crouching to build power. His hand suddenly began to glow a blue color and emanate a loud humming sound. With a turbulent grunt, he swung his arm down in one swift movement, opening his hand to the throw the blue power onto the ground. Instantly, there was an explosion. The mob fell back with shrill screams of terror, running away like frightened deer. However, some of the braver mob members began to double back. Timothy and Luna merely stood shell-shocked, huddled together.  
  
"Come on, before they come back!"  
  
In a blur of movement, the young man took each of them in his amazingly strong hands, and ran flat-out down the path road. All Timothy could manage was keeping his pace up with him as they blurred past befuddled peasants and continued running out of the village and back up the path. Yells of protest followed them until the sun had nearly set, oranges and purples providing the only light in the sky. Only then did they stop running.  
  
"I… thought… we… were done… for!" Timothy doubled over as they came to a halt. Luna could only shake her head, wheezing and on her knees.  
  
Suddenly remembering the young man who had saved them, who was now panting with his arms crossed before them on the path, did Timothy remember to express his gratitude.  
  
"Thank you… for saving us… back there."  
  
It was now too dark to see the young man clearly, but he was definitely taller than Timothy was.  
  
"You could have gotten killed! Have yeh parents taught yeh no brains? You don't go 'round doing magic in front of the Muggle folk! And what's with the fan fair you're wearing, eh? Do you want to be marked to die a gruesome death?"  
  
The young man's voice was deep, although clearly young and healthy, compared to those Timothy heard in the village. His voice had a touch of exasperation, anger, but mostly concern. The feeling Timothy got from this fellow was of someone they could trust.  
  
"Er… sorry," Timothy said sheepishly. "We're… we're not from around here."  
  
"We were just scared, that's all." Luna added, after catching her breath. Timothy tensed and mentally cursed her for admitting that they both were, as truthful a statement as it was.  
  
Timothy could see the young man nod.  
  
"Well, just be sure to stay clear of the villagers from now on, then. Where yeh from anyway?"  
  
Timothy and Luna looked at each other, not sure how to answer.  
  
"A long, long, long way away." Timothy replied quietly, dropping his head.  
  
"Where're yeh parents?" his voice grew sympathetic.  
  
"Where we came from… and they don't know where we are." Luna answered. Timothy glanced at her a moment, surprised that she made it seemed that both their parents were left behind… while hers were dead.  
  
"Well, it's dark out and dangerous here. I'll take you two to my place and we'll continue talking there." And without hesitating, the young man turned on his heels and began walking down the path. After a moment, Timothy and Luna quickly sped up to follow close behind.  
  
"Stay next to me, we're too close to the village for me to conjure a mage-light. Someone may see us." The young man said over his shoulder. Timothy and Luna did not protest.  
  
As they walked for what seemed like an hour, Timothy couldn't help but to study the young man who had saved them. Whatever it was that he had used to ward off the mob, it was powerful magic, and done without the use of a wand. In fact, he didn't seem to have a wand. From what Timothy could make out in the darkness, the young man wore a waist-length tunic fastened with a thick belt. Under the tunic, he wore a light long-sleeved shirt. His shoes were simple hard leather boots, buckled over the hems of tight fitting leggings. There couldn't be any more proof that this was the Middle Ages.  
  
Both Timothy and Luna were thoroughly exhausted. Luna was now leaning on Timothy's arm, tripping over unseen rocks every once in a while. The young man glanced back at them often, either to see if they were still with him or if they were all right. It seemed like forever until the faint glow of torchlight caught Timothy's eyes. A small, barn-like structure with a single lit torch came into view.  
  
"Good thing I lit the torch before I left, 'eh?" the young man said brightly, shepherding them into the building. It was a barn, really, with the floor covered in straw. When the young man lit a candle with just a flick of his wrist, Timothy could see that it was very small inside. A straw covered bed was in a corner. A pile of wood under a kettle hanging in midair without a visible support was in the center. Shelves lining the walls held miscellaneous old books and instruments Timothy didn't recognize.  
  
The young man walked over to the wood under the kettle and waved his hand over it in a practiced fashion. Instantly, fire ignited and bloomed while he strode over to a bucket and began to pour water in the kettle.  
  
"Have a seat, won't you?" he indicated the floor. Luna didn't have to be asked twice, and dropped to a heap on the spot. Timothy hesitated a moment before following suit. Now that there was enough light to see properly, he could make out the young man's features. His hair was jet-black and long, stopping almost at his shoulders. It was somewhat disheveled, as if he had run his hands through his hair too long. The young man's eyes momentarily came into the light revealing them to be brown in color. However, as he began to drop tealeaves into the kettle, Timothy could almost say that this man looked familiar. If it were modern day, this guy could pass as his father's brother, almost.  
  
When the kettle began to whistle after several minutes of quiet, the only sounds coming from the night creatures outside, the young man upturned his palm to conjure up three small cups. Timothy stared, fascinated. He had never seen a wizard do that much magic without a wand or some other magical aid before. When he was passed his cup of steaming tea, Timothy fixed his eyes on the young man's hands.  
  
"You both look downright awful," the young man said soothingly. "What are you too doing running through a Muggle town doing magic alone?"  
  
"We were chased there," Timothy explained as he sipped the hot liquid in his cup. "Some knights thought we stole something. Before we could tell them we weren't, one of them knocked me out."  
  
"Emm, yes… that's a nasty bruise on your head." The young man nodded. "Continue."  
  
"Well, when I came to, both of us were on a cart heading for somewhere. So, we used our wands and used some spells to distract them so that we could get away,"  
  
"Wands?!" The young man cried suddenly in surprise. "Goodness! Are yeh parents rich? Why, I wouldn't be able to afford one if I save my entire life! Makes it so much easier, yes? If only I had one, then ol' Master Crouch could lay off me with the lessons, he would."  
  
"You don't have one?" Timothy asked uselessly. "No wonder you use your hands to do magic for everything. I could never do that, not even my parents, I think."  
  
"Of course! You'd have to be the king himself to afford one. I've talked with the shopkeeper down in one of the last magic communities, Hogsmeade, I think it's called. Anyway, the keeper had to raise prices ages ago, when the taxes got too high. Ollivander, I think his name was."  
  
Timothy swallowed his tea hard. At least Hogsmeade existed, and Mr. Ollivander's ancestor as well. No doubt he was just as creepy as the modern day one.  
  
"So, you two ran into the village and decided to run amuck with your fancy wands, eh? No doubt your master'll be upset with you. Where is he, anyhow? And what about your partner there, where's her mistress?"  
  
"Uhh…" Timothy looked over at Luna, who had put aside her cup and was now fast asleep against his shoulder. "We don't have a master or mistress, sir. We're not really from around here at all."  
  
"Then who…?" the young man started, but shook his head. "Ah, well, you both have been through too much tonight. You just kip on my bed over there and I'll take the loft outside. We can sort things out in the morning."  
  
"Thank you, mister… mister, er…" Timothy yawned.  
  
"Oh, how stupid of me! The name's Patrick…. Patrick Potter."  
  
Timothy felt his heart stop, eyes going wide as he looked at his ancestor.  
  
"Pot… Pott… Pot-t-t-er?" he studdered.  
  
"Yeah, and who might you be, young'n?" Patrick laughed.  
  
"Timothy P-… I…" he thought quickly, would it be wise for him to know that he was his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson, more or less? "Springs. Timothy Springs."  
  
"Nice to meet you, Timothy Springs. I take it that's your sister?" he pointed to the sleeping form of Luna.  
  
"No," Timothy shook his head sleepily, all surprise gone as exhaustion took him again. "No… that's… that's Luna Dine."  
  
Whatever Patrick said afterwards, Timothy didn't hear. His eyes slid shut against his will and the darkness of sleep overtook him. He slumped against Luna as Patrick quickly took their cups. The crackling of the fire and the soft breathing of the two kids were the only sounds heard in the barn, as Patrick quietly conjured the cups away and stood up in a stretch. He looked down on them for a moment, staring particularly at Timothy. After hesitating and muttering disgruntled comments about his master, Patrick bent down and gingerly picked Timothy up in his surprising strong arms and put him in his bed. He went back to get Luna and set her beside him. Then, as he lightly brushed aside Timothy's bangs to look at the bruise left by the knight's blow, he pointed his other hand to his shelf. A bottle of healing herbs floated to him, and with a cloth, Patrick dabbed some of the potion on Timothy's forehead.   
  
"There now," he whispered, sending the potion bottle back and tossing the cloth away. "Sleep well."  
  
With a wide motion of his hand, the fire went out, bringing darkness around them. Patrick got up and left, checking to see that things were well before shutting the door behind him.  
  
"'Night… dad." Timothy turned over.  
  
  
The sounds of falling logs and chirping of birds stirred Timothy from his sleep. He turned on his other side, groping for his pillow. His father must be putting fresh wood in the fireplace, he thought. He had had the strangest dream… an evil woman at Hogwarts had banished both him and Luna Dine back in time, only to meet his ancestor and be chased by knights. However, as the sounds did not cease, waking him further, Timothy noticed that his bed sheets were very uncomfortable and opened his eyes.  
  
His heart skipped a beat as he sat bolt upright. He was in a straw-covered bed, next to Luna, who was still asleep. It hadn't been a dream. They were in his ancestor's barn.  
  
Timothy carefully climbed off the bed and slowly walked to the flimsy wooden door to the outside. He opened it a bit and saw Patrick stacking wood against the barn wall. The sawdust and hay was very thick, and Timothy let out a controlled sneeze.  
  
"Ah, you're awake!" Patrick turned to see him, rubbing off sawdust on his dark green tunic. "Thought you never would. You both been asleep for nearly two days!"  
  
"Two days?" Timothy asked incredulously. He did feel a lot better now that he was rested. Even his head didn't hurt anymore from where the knight had knocked him out.  
  
"Did you good, I see." Patrick came closer to look him over. Timothy felt strange being scrutinized by his ancestor. "You're head fell better?"  
  
"Like new," Timothy smiled. "Thank you."  
  
"Don't mention it." Patrick smiled back, suddenly looking behind him. "'Morning, m'lady."  
  
Luna had walked out following Timothy, squinting in the bright morning sun.  
  
"What time is it?" she asked groggily.  
  
"I'd say it'd be about close to noon, I guess." Patrick glanced up at the sky a moment. "You two hungry?"  
  
"Yes." They both said in union. Timothy hadn't realized how hungry he was, the last time he had eaten anything was dinner with this family. That had been nearly three days prior, but it felt like forever.  
  
Patrick smiled and walked around them to go back inside. They followed eagerly, watching as Patrick conjured another fire and summoned a frying pan from a shelf on the wall. Then, seemingly out of his pocket, he pulled out some bacon slices and tossed it on the pan to sizzle. Next, out of a pocket in front of his tunic, he took out three eggs.  
  
"How you like your eggs?" he asked as he cracked them open on the edge of the pan and poured the contents in with the cooking bacon. The barn quickly filled with the aroma of breakfast, making Timothy's mouth water.  
  
"Scrambled." Luna replied.  
  
"Same here." Timothy added.  
  
"Now," Patrick began as he conjured some plates with a flick of his wrist and began to serve them. "You told me the other night that you're not from around here, correct?"  
  
"Yes." Timothy answered, taking his plate and pausing as he waited for a fork.  
  
"Something wrong?" Patrick asked, seeing Timothy sitting there expectantly.  
  
"I need a fork." Timothy answered him obviously.  
  
"Fork? Goodness, boy! You really must be a prince or something! Sorry, chap, but that's what fingers are for." Patrick laughed, handing Luna her plate.  
  
Luna nudged Timothy in the shoulder and began to down her food hungrily. Timothy silently cursed himself for not paying more attention in History of Magic. Naturally they wouldn't have modern luxuries like forks. Well, forks weren't a new thing, but like Patrick said, only the rich had them. Without further ado, he began to eat as Patrick picked at his own food.  
  
"Well then, anyway, as I was saying… so, you have no where to go?"  
  
Timothy and Luna shook their heads.  
  
"Hmm…" Patrick murmured to himself seriously, his lighthearted expression hardening. "I'm not entirely sure what to do."  
  
"We're sorry to be a nuisance," Timothy swallowed. "All we need is… well, to find a way back home."  
  
"You said home was far away, how far is it?" Patrick asked.  
  
Timothy and Luna looked at each other, chewing more slowly. Timothy had already covered for them by using his mother's maiden name, or, in sudden realization, his uncle's name. If they were to tell Patrick that they were from the future and the reasons they were sent back, it might blow their cover.  
  
"Your clothes," Patrick said without answer. "I've never seen cloaks like that before."  
  
They both looked down at their Hogwarts uniforms and colored slightly.  
  
"Er… well, they're school uniforms." Timothy replied carefully.  
  
"School uniforms? You sure you're not part of a royal family? I've never heard of anyone else going to school." Patrick looked at them skeptically.  
  
"Where else would you learn magic?" Luna said before Timothy could stop her.  
  
Patrick laughed.  
  
"Where else would you…! My! From your master and lord, that's where! You mean to tell me that you both haven't been apprenticed to a wizard and witch yet?"  
  
"Apprenticed?" they both wondered out loud.  
  
"Goodness me, have you got me at a weird end." Patrick ran his hands through his hair much like Timothy did. "As much as I wouldn't mind having an apprentice, I can't! I'm one myself! I'm not a fully learned wizard just yet, if Master Crouch doesn't let me go. And he can't have more than one apprentice, he said so himself a while back. He's too old now. As for you, Luna, well… I'm not sure about the local witch."  
  
Timothy swallowed the rest of his breakfast quickly.  
  
"We're not asking to be apprenticed, just sent home," he struggled mentally to determine if telling him the next thing was a mistake. "Patrick? Do you know enough magic to send people… people through time?"  
  
Patrick blinked at him.  
  
"Through time? Well… no, sorry. Why?"  
  
Both Timothy and Luna sagged in disappointment. Timothy began to loose hope, thinking he was forever trapped in the middle ages and had failed his destiny. Murtov and Malfoy's plan had succeeded after all.  
  
"Why?" Patrick asked again. "You… you don't mean to tell me…?"  
  
"We need a lift back to the year 2020." Luna muttered dispiritedly.   
  
Patrick stared at them both for what seemed like several awkward minutes.  
  
"You're… you're from the future?" Patrick asked hoarsely.  
  
"An evil witch in our time used a spell and sent us back here. We know that there's someone in this time that knows we're here and wants to kill us." Timothy explained.  
  
"Why would someone do something so horrible to you both?"  
  
Timothy sighed, what use was there now to withhold the entire truth?  
  
"She was working for an evil wizard that wants to get rid of all the impurities and rule the world. That wizard wants my parents dead, for they are a very powerful witch and wizard together. However, I am the only one that can destroy him… it's my destiny. I was supposed to find my family crest, which would help me kill him, I guess. But I didn't find it… I… I… didn't want to. I was too afraid. That was my mistake… his spy came to my school and managed to send me back in time to put me away. Luna was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, although the wizard wanted her dead too. He already killed her parents."  
  
Patrick took a deep breath and considered them both for a long moment.  
  
"What is your name, really?" he asked Timothy directly.  
  
"Timothy," he whispered, hanging his head to hide his tears, feeling very ashamed. "Potter."  
  
To his surprise, Patrick didn't gasp or yell or react how he had expected. When Timothy looked up at him, he was looking back at Timothy with a strange expression… he couldn't describe it.  
  
"Well now… well now," he mused slowly.  
  
"We're stuck here, aren't we?" Luna sniffed. "Stuck in the Middle Ages with no place to go!"  
  
"Let's not fret just yet, 'lil miss. We'll think of something." Patrick got up and flexed his arms, acting as if nothing the stranger ever happened to him before. "I better meet up with my master before he becomes too enraged by my two day absence. I didn't want to leave you two alone. Maybe he'll have a better idea as to what to do… who knows? Maybe he can send you back."  
  
"Really?" Timothy got up as well, brushing the straw from his uniform. "Can he?"  
  
"There's a lot the 'ol grouch has yet to teach me." Patrick winked at him.  
  
  
Twenty minutes later, after helping Patrick bring in wood for the night's fire and other odds and ends, Timothy and Luna followed Patrick through a surrounding wood.  
  
"What's that galloping sound?" Luna whispered apprehensively, walking close to Timothy.  
  
"Unicorns." Patrick answered plainly.  
  
They walked for what seemed like two hours, not saying a word, until Patrick suddenly asked:  
  
"You go to Hogwarts, right?"  
  
"Yes," Timothy replied. "Is it near by?"  
  
"Emm, more or less."  
  
"I thought every magical child was admitted there." Luna said.  
  
"Yes, they are." Patrick said grimly.  
  
"Why didn't you go?" Timothy asked.  
  
He stopped and looked back at them, his face set.  
  
"These are not peaceful times… haven't been since before I was born."  
  
"I'm beginning to think there isn't such a thing as peaceful times." Timothy muttered as they began moving again.  
  
"But, still… the school goes on, right? You still would've been able to go." Luna persisted the subject.  
  
"Mother wouldn't let me." Patrick said simply.  
  
"Your mother wouldn't let you? Why not?"  
  
Patrick shrugged and quickened his pace.  
  
"Why did she-?"  
  
"There he is!" Patrick yelled suddenly before Luna could continue. "Now, just leave the talking to me. Mind your manners."  
  
Both Timothy and Luna put on frowns of protest at such a request as Patrick broke into a run and came up on the top of a cliff. Standing precariously near the edge stood an averaged height but very muscular looking man. Patrick nearly slowed to a crawl as he got closer to him, stretching as tall as he could and nearly matching the man, yet he was too skinny to be a match.  
  
"Where you been, boy?" the man said in a low growl.  
  
Timothy held out his hand to stop Luna from getting any closer. They stood and watched from the tree line as Patrick took a loud gulp.  
  
"I'm very sorry, Master, but I have an excuse." He seemed to try to sound unafraid.  
  
His master turned at that point, revealing a tired, yet strong face that showed old age. Wind whipped at the fine long brown hair that was streaked generously with white. His eyes were dark and piercing, and Patrick seemed to wither to his knees at his stare.  
  
"Oh? While I've been straining to keep his minions back, you've been gallivanting around the countryside for two days with an excuse? Do tell me, boy, how it slipped your mind to summon an owl to inform me, instead of waiting until the third day to make an appearance?"  
  
"No, Master, I wasn't gallivanting… I came across these young'uns in the Muggle village down the path," Patrick motioned for Timothy and Luna to approach. "They were nearly killed before I intervened. I got them out and brought them back to my home, but the two of them were in a bad sort and needed care. These past two days they've been resting in my barn."  
  
Timothy nearly stumbled when Patrick's master turned his eyes sharply upon him and Luna. For what seemed like hours, he seemed to study them.  
  
"You there," he pointed a strong finger at Timothy, almost making him jump. "What's your name"  
  
Timothy immediately looked to Patrick, who stepped forward to stand in front of him and Luna.  
  
"I believe the better question to ask, Master, is when they are from."  
  
"Did I hear you correctly as to say, when?" he crossed his arms and looked at Patrick dubiously. "Are you telling me that these children are from the future?"  
  
The three of them nodded slowly. Patrick's master stared for several moments before letting out an exasperated sigh.  
  
"Of all things to happen now! I don't have time for this sort of thing, and Potter, you've already set me back with your absence. No, no… if what I suspect is true, I cannot help you."  
  
Luna let out a stifled cry and Timothy's jaw dropped. Patrick looked at them both worriedly and stepped up to his master, who had turned back to the cliff's edge.  
  
"But Master! They're trapped here, nearly a thousand years in the past! Surely you can send them back, you're the most powerful wizard in these lands."  
  
"No, boy, I'm not the most powerful. You know that. As for these children, I'm sorry, but not only do I not have the time, I don't have the knowledge. I've never done a time spell. Have only heard of such a thing once…" he said without looking at Patrick.  
  
"But-!"  
  
"Don't talk back to me, boy, or you'll regret it! Now send them off and be quick! We still have to set up the perimeters around the vicinity and only you have the legs to handle such a chore."  
  
Timothy's meager hope drained from him like a leaky bucket. Luna was already in tears as Patrick looked back at them apologetically. He was starting down toward them to lead them back through the woods when he stopped suddenly. Patrick looked at Timothy, then quickly turned around and strode to face the back of his master's form.  
  
"With all due respect, Master, I am now responsible for these two."  
"Don't be ridiculous," his master suddenly chuckled, his back still turned. "You're too young to take on an apprentice, especially since you're still one yourself. The girl needs a witch, anyway. The only one I know in the area already has an apprentice, and she's older than me… no way will she take a young one like that."  
  
"I am responsible for returning them to their proper time. For you see, this boy here just so happens to be several greats of a grandson of mine. My predecessor." Patrick said calmly.  
  
This made his master turn and look at them all with masked curiosity. He took a long hard look at Timothy, and then at Patrick. Several awkward moments later, Patrick still standing up to his master boldly, he nodded his head.  
  
"So, you're name would be?" he cocked his head at Timothy.  
  
"Timothy. Timothy Potter." He replied in a weak voice.  
  
"Emm… and you, little lady?"  
  
"Luna Dine, sir." Luna's voice quivered.  
  
He looked at Patrick with a vague expression, taking in a deep breath.  
  
"There's only one person I know that may know the spell that could send them back. I'll help you, but our priority is Welles, understood?"  
  
"Yes, Master." Patrick smiled at them all.  
  
Timothy and Luna beamed with newfound hope.  
  
  
Patrick's master introduced himself as William Crouch, one of the few wizards left still "battling the revolution", as he put it. Timothy realized that he and Luna had been sent back to when Christianity was converting the people from "the Old Ways". Magic was now seen as works of evil, and non-magical people were donned the name of "Muggles" as the practice lost believers. This had been going on for over a hundred years, and now nearly all the wizards and witches had spread out in hiding… magic becoming concealed. One wizard, however, refused to hide and became enraged by the turn of the times. His name was Lord Welles, a very powerful wizard of the darkest arts. He wanted to rid the land of the Muggle folk and return the reign of magic, with him as king. Hardly anyone stood in his way, and many villages had plundered in ruin at his power. Crouch, despite the ridicule from Muggles, only wanted peace- accepting the change of beliefs and willing to form a truce. It was him that battled Welles, and him that Welles feared. However, he was becoming old, and Patrick was accepted as his apprentice to replace him.  
  
"That's why my mum brought me to him… he asked for me by name. He knew my grandfather, who was a very powerful wizard himself. Saved the kingdom, he did. My father tried to keep peace in his place, but was killed. Now it's up to me… he may not act like it, but Master Crouch cares very much. He's a good man, and a good teacher." Patrick explained as they followed Crouch to an unknown destination.  
  
"How did your grandfather save the kingdom?" Timothy asked, fascinated.  
  
"He was a close friend of Godric Gryffindor, one of the Hogwarts school founders. My father told me, before he was killed, that Gryffindor gave him a gift- a weapon, actually, that would destroy Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders who had gone evil."  
  
Timothy nearly stopped dead in his tracks, staring open mouthed at Patrick as Luna collided into his back.  
  
"Hey!" she yelped.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Well… not sure, actually. From what I remember, my father said that he had managed to kill him. Only, Slytherin was so powerful, that at the last minute he trapped his spirit in some form… my grandfather only managed to lock him away in the castle somewhere, far from anyone's reach. No one knows for sure, Godric Gryffindor died a short while after with the secret taken with him. Whatever and where ever it is, it's known as the Chamber of Secrets. My grandfather swore never to tell a soul. What's wrong, Timothy? You look pale."  
  
"What… what was the weapon he used?" Timothy asked breathlessly.  
  
"Er… a crest. A crest of our surname."  
  
Timothy nearly fainted. Patrick took hold of his shoulders before he could fall, stopping in their path and making Crouch pause to look back at them.  
  
"Better carry you on my back. Must not be used to all this nature walking, eh?" he said lightheartedly, but glanced at Crouch nervously since they were hindering their progress. Before Timothy could say anything, Patrick took hold of his upper arms and swung him onto his strong back. Luna couldn't help but let out a soft giggle as Timothy flushed and Patrick broke into a trot to make up for the lost distance between them and Crouch.  
  
"The Potter family crest." Timothy muttered, eyes half shut as he bounced along on Patrick's back.  
  
"Yes," Patrick panted. "The true symbol of our name and a powerful weapon against evil. If only I had it…"  
  
Timothy's eyes flew open.  
  
"You don't have it?! Do you know where it is?!"  
  
"'Fraid not. My grandfather passed it down to my father, and at his instruction, he hid it somewhere. I was too young at the time. My father never told me where he put it before he was killed. My mother refused to tell me about it. So, we may never know."  
  
Timothy groaned, resting his chin on Patrick's shoulder as they pressed on. Before he could ask anything more, Crouch stopped and held up his hand.  
  
"Silence! Patrick, put him down and come here. You children stay where you are."  
  
Patrick gently but quickly lowered Timothy to the ground, winked, and jogged up to where Crouch had his back turned, looking out in front of them where Timothy could make out a large field. They began to mutter to each other, and he strained to hear.  
  
"…many?"  
  
"Not much… sure… torturing Muggles…"  
  
"What… do, Master?"  
  
Crouch turned back to glance at Timothy and Luna, both of them listening intently. Patrick looked slightly worried as he watched his master.  
  
"What's wrong?" Timothy called to him, curiosity winning him over.  
  
"Stay where you are until we return. Under no circumstances are you to come rushing out of these woods without us. Put up a warding charm just in case."  
  
Before Timothy and Luna could protest, not entirely sure they could conjure such a charm, Crouch was already out of sight. Patrick hesitated until Crouch called back to him.  
  
"Wait! You can't just leave us!" Luna cried shrilly, running up to the spot where both adults were standing. But Patrick and Crouch were already gone, the light from the edge of the woods just visible on the horizon.  
  
"Luna, they said for us to stay here!" Timothy jogged after her.  
  
"Well we can't stay here, what if those knights show up or something? What'll we do?" she fretted.  
  
"Crouch said to conjure a warding charm." Timothy said, digging in his robes for his wand.  
  
"And do we know how to conjure a warding charm?" Luna crossed her arms and stared at him expectantly.  
  
Timothy thought a moment and blinked.  
  
"Well… I… I… er, well my father did it once in front of me a long time ago. But… no, I don't know how. Do you?"  
  
"If I did would I have asked you?" Luna rolled her eyes.  
  
"Well you never know! You could have known and just asked me on spite!" Timothy snapped at her attitude.  
  
"Shows just how much you know then, huh!"  
  
"Why are you so impudent all of a sudden? You used to be so meek." Timothy turned away from her, his own arms crossed.  
  
"To think that I ever thought you were a good guy! I saved your life once, and you still treat me like an annoying bug!" Luna stomped her foot.  
  
Timothy turned to her, eyes flashing.  
  
"What's with you these days?! Yeah, your parents were killed and your life has taken a dive- but it's like you're a different person all of a sudden! I don't know you at all."  
  
"You never knew me to begin with," Luna hissed. "I bet you only came after me for the fame of saving someone- when it was me that saved you… but did I get recognition? No! What I got was a death sentence and a horrible life to live out."  
  
Timothy swelled with anger. Never did he think of such a thing when he went after Luna that last school year. She did look like a different person, trying to stand defiantly up to Timothy, when she was so much smaller. That event completely changed her… and he had no idea how hurt she was inside. Yet, she was acting so unnecessarily at the moment that feeling sorry for her was a remote possibility.  
  
"I went after you because we knew you were in trouble. And I thanked you for ending up helping me. Why are you acting so conflictive?!"  
  
Luna opened her mouth to yell, but the yell they heard did not come from her. The bushes around the trees next to them suddenly moved violently!  
  
"YAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGG!"  
  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" They both screamed, Luna backing up into Timothy's arms.  
  
"GET THEM!"  
  
Two knights crashed onto the path, sending Timothy and Luna bolting in the other direction in fear. Too startled and afraid to think, all Timothy managed to do was look back. The knights were trying to catch up to them in their full armor, swords raised over their heads in a fighting position. There seemed to be a strange glow around them, as if powering up energy. Timothy screamed again, grabbing Luna by the waist and lunged to the ground just as a blinding light blew up the air they were once in with a deafening crack.  
  
Luna began to shake violently in fear, her hands clutching Timothy's robes in a vise-like grip. He began to scuttle to his feet and drag her off the path through the woods. Pulling out his wand, he pointed it behind him as the knights lumbered into view. Searching his mind for a spell, he spoke the first one that came to his head just in time before the knights attacked again.  
  
"Alohamora!"  
  
He cursed as he realized that he had just said the opening charm. Thinking them doomed, Timothy squinted his eyes as he watched the knights reel back under the charm. Nothing happened at first, making both knights laugh… but then their armor completely fell off.  
  
"What happened?" Luna panted as Timothy slowed down, beginning to giggle.  
  
The knights fell over as their armor crashed to the ground. Their magical swords dropped to the side as they struggled in the heavy metal. All they were wearing was protective chain mail and they began to curse loudly.  
  
"Let's go before they get themselves together again." Timothy grabbed Luna's hand and they ran to the edge of the forest, where they stopped in shock.  
  
A vast meadow lay before them filled with tall grass. It seemed like a whole army of the very same knights with the magical swords was moving quickly in the green. Shouts and small explosions from the meadow's edge on the far side drew Timothy's eyes. He let out a gasp. Crouch and Patrick were engaged in a furious confrontation with the closer knights. They weren't using wands, but simply shouted incantations and made motions with their hands. It seemed like they were holding the knights at bay, but not for long. There were simply too many of them at too many angles.  
  
"Oh no, Timothy, now what?" Luna asked breathlessly.  
  
The tree they were standing next to suddenly exploded. A knight in the meadow spotted them!  
  
"Run!"  
  
They couldn't turn back where they came from, or they'd meet up with the other two knights again. Running into the field would not be a good idea, either; they'd be running straight into a whole army of them. So they ran at the borderline toward where Crouch and Patrick were kept at bay.  
  
The knights weren't too quick to spot them, but as they drew closer, the knights began to take notice. They aimed their glowing swords toward them, ready to fire. Timothy looked over his shoulder just in time to see Luna get in the knight's aim. She didn't see him.  
  
"Luna, watch out!"  
  
Timothy pushed her out of the way and held out his wand out of instinct.  
  
"NO!" he commanded. The knight swung his sword and with another loud crack, the magic surged out and flew straight at Timothy. However, as Timothy yelled, his own wand began to glow with power and cracked in the air itself. The two magics hit, and the impact threw Timothy a near five feet backward into a tree trunk. Instantly, the air was knocked clear from his lungs. He crumbled to heap, gasping and dizzy. Through his steadily fuzzy vision, Luna could be seen lying on her stomach with her hands covering her head in the dirt. She slowly looked up and searched around her, screeching as she spotted Timothy.  
  
"TIMOTHY!"  
  
She scrambled to her feet but stumbled and fell again. Timothy began to lift his hands to motion for her to keep still, just as he could begin making out a tall figure looming behind her. He squinted, gasping as the air reluctantly began to slip back inside him, and saw that it was a knight. His sword was high above him, glowing in power, but he was fixated on Timothy… he hadn't seen Luna… yet.  
  
"There you are! Hah hah! I'll be rewarded grandly for sure!" the knight yelled triumphantly, lowering his sword, preparing to fire.  
  
Just as the light began to shoot out of the sword, Timothy closing his eyes to take his final blow, there was an angry yell:  
  
"NO!"  
  
Light cracked just as a dark haired figure leapt into it's path, taking the hit in the shoulder, and landed clear on Timothy. It was Patrick! His jet-black hair fell over Timothy's face as he let out a grunt of pain, turning on his side to face the knight.  
  
"Brandmortica!" he shouted, raising his hand palm flat outward in a powerful motion. Instantly, the knight screamed and whatever happened to him… Timothy couldn't tell. Patrick's weight was crushing his already air-deprived lungs. His eyes clouded over as he felt his ancestor struggling to get off… hearing Luna's voice trembling with fear and worry… the deep throated sound of Crouch speaking… and then the memory of the powerful magic he had felt surging through his entire body as he countered the knight's first attack. He hadn't used a spell, all he did was raise his wand. What happened?  
  
"Timothy? Timothy, are you alright?"  
  
"How'd he do that? How did he block that knight's magic like that?"  
  
"He's a wizard, no? He used magic back."  
  
"But… I didn't hear a spell."  
  
"He looks bad, Master Crouch…"  
  
"Aye, better get on to Winter's. Your shoulder, too."  
  
"I'll be alright."  
  
"Timothy, it'll be OK. Hang on."  
  
The last thing he knew, he was being lifted and carried, but not before he heard a small voice in his ear whisper:  
  
"Thank you, Timothy. And, I'm sorry."  
  
  
A/N: Well! What did you think now? No better time now to review, if I may say so myself, eh? Now, I know already one question you may ask: how did I come to the year 2020? Well, here are the facts-  
*Harry and Renee gradutated Hogwarts in 1997 (Hatred's Prisoner)  
*Timothy was born 11 years later in June 2008 (Break In the Darkness)  
*At his current age of 12, that brings the year to 2020  
That seem peachy? Alrighty! Ok, now, well the story really is taking flight now. Will Timothy be OK? Can he find the crest after all? Who the heck are those freaky knights? What happens next? Chapter 10 will tell!  
  
HTTP://WWW.THEWORLDOFRENEEPOTTER.DISNEYFANSITES.COM  
Updated often, new books on the recommendation page!  
  
I actually did alright on my report card! C, B, A, A, A, B!! Evil math for giving me the C... arrrgggg... And it didn't help to find out that my friend decided to take a quick trip over to LONDON over spring break and she didn't take me!! Ahck! Oh well... I'll just head over to downtown Orlando and sit at the bus station pretending it's Kings Cross. Oh wait, there's a train station in Sanford... ooo! Well, until I work out my strange issues, you can expect chapter 10 by March 29th. Don't forget to review! Buhbye now!  
  
~OrcaPotter 


	10. Witch Winter

A/N: I'm glad I've managed to get this in. School has sucked my energy so much I'm lucky I'm alive. Let's hope the chapter proves otherwise. Please remember to review! Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Chapter Ten: Witch Winter   
  
  
It didn't seem to Timothy that much longer that light returned to his eyes, the pain he had been feeling almost completely gone. He sighed and yawned, before jumping upright as he realized where he was.  
  
"Oh, you're awake." Said a gentle voice.  
  
Timothy blinked. He was covered in fur skins on a soft bed, his uniform was gone as well as his shirt. Blushing, he gathered up the firs to cover himself as a young woman, average in height with amber brown hair, stepped into the light pouring in through a nearby window.  
  
"Your friends were very worried, but you're fine." She smiled, coming over and taking the firs in her hands. He clutched them away from her, blushing deeper.  
  
"Modest, are we? Now, now, youngling, I won't bite. Nothing I haven't seen before. Just let me have a look and I'll let you dress."  
  
Reluctantly, without a word, Timothy let go of the furs and the woman pulled them back. She merely hovered her hand above his chest for a moment before humming in satisfaction and turning away to grab his shirt.  
  
"I've never seen clothes like yours before," she said quietly, studying him. "You're little girl friend is dressed much the same way, I was quite shocked."  
  
"She's not my girlfriend." Timothy said quickly in a tone that he cursed himself for using. It wasn't too polite, but the woman didn't seem to notice. She laughed lightly instead.  
  
"Really, now? The way she was acting while you were sleeping could tell otherwise."  
  
Timothy had never felt his face grow more red. He pulled his shirt on and clambered off the bed, blinking in the low light of the hut he was in. It wasn't small, but not large either, with a low ceiling and curved architecture.  
  
"Careful," the woman came over and held him up the upper arm as he began to stumble. "You're still weak from the impact of the spell you blocked."  
  
"I did?" he asked incredulously, not really remembering ever saying a spell. "I mean, I blocked a spell?"  
  
"Well of course!" she laughed. "Otherwise you'd be as dead as a doornail right about now."  
  
"Oh." Timothy's mind swam.  
  
"Poor thing," she cooed as she walked him to an opening that was shrouded with a blanket. "Patrick told me all about you. In between making ridiculous moans of pain even though he only had a scratch."  
  
"He did?!" Timothy cried.  
  
She had walked him out through the blanket and outside, where Luna was sitting with her back turned on a log.  
  
"Here he is, Luna. Told you he'd be fine!"  
  
Luna jumped to her feet and whirled around to face them. She ran to Timothy but stopped and hesitated as she nearly tackled him in an embrace. Both of them blushed, with Timothy shuffling his feet.  
  
"Er… thank God you're alright, Timothy!" Luna averted her eyes, still blushing.  
  
"Where's Patrick?" Timothy asked after an awkward moment of silence that followed.  
  
"Right here."  
  
There was a thump behind them and Timothy turned to see Patrick grinning at them all.  
  
"I thought your shoulder was so bad that you could hardly move." The woman accused suspiciously, her eyes narrowed.  
  
Patrick cocked his head and tried to look innocent, hands behind his back.  
  
"With you nursing me, I quickly got as good as new." He winked at Timothy, who couldn't help but to grin back.  
  
"Honestly, Mr. Potter, you're a handful." She crossed her arms.  
  
"And there's no one else I'd rather be a handful to than you, Miss Ocarina." Patrick quickly pranced away before Ocarina could hit him. It was useless, though, for a sharp word slipped from her lips and Patrick instantly became as still as a statue.  
  
"Now that's not fair!" he cried, unable to move.  
Ocarina laughed, leaving Timothy's side to slowly stride up to Patrick, grinning slyly to herself.  
  
"Careful, Patrick, or you'll end up as another addition to Whisper's lawn ornament collection."  
  
"Does that mean I get to stare at you all day?" he countered smartly. Ocarina scowled and popped him on the head. "Ow!"  
  
Timothy and Luna began to giggle and Ocarina smiled broadly.  
  
"Can you un-hex me now?" Patrick asked wryly.  
  
"Are you going to behave like a good boy, now?" Ocarina put her hands on her hips.  
  
"Yes, ma'am." He answered humbly, although he began to laugh himself.  
  
Another sharp word snapped into the air and Patrick went limp as if someone cut taut strings attached to him. He rubbed the kinks out and stared at Ocarina, blushing.  
  
Timothy looked around as Patrick began to flirt with Ocarina again. The small hut that he had woken up in was behind him, surrounded by a run-down little garden and further around the perimeter was the dense forest. He searched the area and looked back at the hut to see where Crouch was, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen.  
  
"Where's Crouch?" he wondered out loud.  
  
"He went somewhere. I wasn't really paying attention as to where." Luna colored slightly and averted her eyes. He didn't ask where her attention was, for he knew the answer.  
  
"Patrick? Where's Crouch?" he cleared his throat and inverted himself between Patrick and Ocarina, who were now staring at each other.  
  
"Emm… what? Oh! Oh, yeah, he went to go look for Witch Winter." Patrick shook himself out of his stupor.  
  
"Witch Winter?"  
  
"My mistress," Ocarina said. "She's very stubborn and such a solitary creature. Days like these she likes to go out and disappear, doing whatever it is that suits her fancy. She hates other people, and barely tolerates me half the time. I'm surprised she has taught me anything at all. To think I've been with her ever since I was twelve. Even after all these years she still treats me like a child; no different from the first day I set foot in her crummy little hut."  
  
"Why is he looking for her, then?" Timothy asked.  
  
"For advice, I reckon." Patrick shrugged. "She's the only witch in the area."  
  
Silence followed, the only sounds being what animals were stirring in the forest. Luna began to pant and started taking off her school uniform robes. As Timothy watched, completely comfortable with his own uniform off, he realized that the temperature was warmer than it had been back in their time. It was late fall when they were banished back in time, but here it felt like early spring.  
  
She walked back in the hut to put her robes with Timothy's and Ocarina instructed Patrick to go fetch wood for a fire.  
  
"Winter could be anywhere, so we'll go ahead and have an early dinner. You children must be starved! And Timothy, be sure and eat well so that you can recover fully." She said, shepherding them over to a campsite to the side of the hut.  
  
Ocarina was a wonderful cook, Timothy concluded, when the smell of her thick stew filled his nose. She didn't use nearly as many spices as his mother would have used, however. The momentary memory made pangs of homesickness jar his stomach. It must have shown on his face, for he felt a hand land gently on his shoulder.  
  
"What troubles you, Timothy?" Patrick asked quietly, his eyes glowing with youthful kindness.  
  
"Oh," Timothy blushed slightly and looked at his feet. "Just… just thinking of home, that's all."  
  
"Ah, we'll get yeh there, don't worry. Just stick with us and you'll be fine."  
  
Ocarina served everyone and they sat down on the ground in a circle. They were quiet while they ate, until the wandering thoughts in Timothy's mind provoked him to inquire more about Patrick's knowledge of the crest.  
  
"Patrick, are you sure you don't know where the Potter family crest is?"  
  
He slowly chewed his stew, looking thoughtfully at Timothy.  
  
"Honestly, I don't know where it is. My mother never told me, if she knew, which she probably would have. But she died two years ago next month."  
  
Timothy blanched and stared at his stew sitting in his bowl.  
  
"Why are you so curious about it?" Patrick asked.  
  
"The Potter family crest is what I have been instructed to find and acquire, so that I can save the world." Timothy said quietly. Everyone went still and looked at him silently.  
  
"If I can't even find it here," he continued disdainfully to himself. "Then I have truly failed."  
  
"You'll find it." Luna said suddenly with absolute certainty. Timothy wasn't in the mood to start another argument with her.  
  
Ocarina and Patrick exchanged looks and glanced quietly at the two children.  
  
"Ohh…" Ocarina abruptly shuddered. "Here they come."  
  
Timothy and Luna looked up with mild confusion until they saw both Ocarina and Patrick clamber to their feet and walk to the edge of the forest. Out of no where, lumbered out William Crouch and, apparently, Witch Winter. She was a small, hunched over witch of the ordinary stereotyped kind with long white hair and long crooked nose. Her small beady eyes pierced through Timothy like ice, and he realized without doubt how she had received her name.  
  
Both young adults stood and bowed, or in Ocarina's case, curtseyed, in front of their master and mistress.  
  
"Get something for your mistress of charms, girl!" Crouch ordered a little too loudly, making Ocarina jump slightly and hurry to prepare a bowl of stew. Winter paid no mind, but continued to stare at Timothy, making him fidget uneasily.  
  
"Have you no manners, children?" he suddenly called out to Timothy and Luna.  
  
Dropping their bowls, both of them stumbled to their feet and approached both adults much the same way as Patrick and Ocarina had.  
  
"These are the children I mentioned." Crouch said to Winter.  
  
"Of course they are! No need to tell me, I can see them just fine. Who else would they be?"  
  
Crouch let a breath out through his nose slowly in exasperation. He obviously had to deal with Winter for a while. Patrick simply stood the side and looked at them all carefully.  
  
Ocarina came back quickly with a bowl of stew for the witch, who had brushed past Timothy and Luna to sit down on a log facing the fire. She persisted to eat, even under the expectant and weary stares of everyone else. Timothy felt his heart jumping; could this witch be able to send him and Luna back home? But then, just as he felt a faint smile show unnoticed on his face, it fell once he thought of the crest again. How could he go back if it's certain he had failed his quest? How could he face his parents? His family? Everyone else?  
  
"Potter!" Winter suddenly snapped between mouthfuls of stew.  
  
Both Timothy and Patrick jumped with a quick, "Yes?"  
  
"Well, what are you waiting for? Come here!" her beady eyes flashed dangerously.  
  
They quickly rushed forward together and stood before the witch, standing precariously above her. She sat her bowl down, now empty of stew, drew up her hands and pulled them both down by their ears.  
  
"Ow!" Timothy yelped. Patrick simply grunted.  
  
She grabbed their chins and pulled their faces close to her. Timothy grimaced as she peered at them both closely, seemingly studying their features. Her breath was fowl, steaming from her nose and mouth.  
  
"Aye," she nearly whispered, still staring at them both. "Yes, it's clearly true now."  
  
Whisper let them go, and Timothy rubbed his chin as Patrick tried to look dignified in front of Ocarina and the other adults.  
  
"You, young one," she looked directly at Timothy. "Who is your father?"  
  
Timothy blinked at such an odd question. What did his father have to do with anything?  
  
"Er… Harry Potter, ma'am." He replied.  
  
"And your grandfather?"  
  
He looked around at the others as if they knew the reason for such an unusual interrogation. For a moment, he tried to remember his grandfather's name. Then he remembered.  
  
"James Potter."  
  
Winter nodded as if she already knew.  
  
"And you are Timothy Potter."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." He said in awe. Had Crouch already told her his name? Surely, he must have. How else would she have known?  
  
"Well, then," Winter suddenly took up her bowl again with disinterest. "Why do you come to me?"  
  
"Er…" Timothy was even more confused. Everyone else exchanged similar looks while Crouch simply ground his teeth as he stared down at Winter with contempt.  
  
"I come to you, Witch Winter, because it's about time you took some action into the situation we are having." He said hotly.  
  
"We've been having this situation for nearly a hundred years," she shrugged apathetically. "It's the cross of change."  
  
Crouch stepped forward, his bulky stature making him seem ten times more intimidating.  
  
"Because of Welles and his army of bewitched knights, the Muggles have even more fear of us than ever before! It's impossible now for us to co-exist. We must destroy Welles before he can destroy the Muggles, and return peace." Crouch steamed.  
  
"Why do you care so much for the Muggles? Have they not run our kind out of house and home? Do wizards and witches not live in hiding, scattered across the country, in fear?" Winter countered.  
  
"If it weren't for Welles, the Muggles wouldn't be Muggles, but peaceful friends and believers of magic as they once were! But I'm afraid now it's too late. There is no way we can co-exist. The wizarding world must go undercover from Muggles… but it cannot go undercover of dark magic. Welles won't stop at Muggles- the magical community will eventually fall as well, and he'll be the supreme ruler of the world for dark purposes." Crouch said urgently.  
  
"Oh, but it's not just Welles alone that has been moving faster against the land these days." Winter said darkly.  
  
"What do you mean, witch?" Crouch asked accusingly.  
  
"I mean the dark lord has had help in his movements lately. His forces have doubled in power, not by any modern means. Magic no one has ever seen before. But they are not working directly toward the Muggles… no… Welles and his army have been searching." She looked at Crouch.  
  
"Searching for what?" He stared back.  
  
"Searching for the key to an eternity of dark rule. Only, he wouldn't have known about it if it weren't for the woman. The black hearted witch."  
  
"Black hearted witch?"  
  
"She is not from here. Not in place or time. She comes as a servant, but has her own means of obtaining power. It is her that Welles is acting under now… and it is now that times are at its most dangerous point." Winter paused a moment. "And I will have nothing to do with it."  
  
"What?!" Crouch bellowed. "You can't continue to stand aside and watch the world fall to shambles!"  
  
"I will have nothing to do with it, because there is nothing that I can do myself!" Winter shouted back.  
  
"You are nothing but a coward." Crouch shook his head vehemently and looked away.  
  
"There is nothing I can do," Winter repeated again, slowly. "The ones that can already know what it is they must do."  
  
Everyone was staring at her, fixated, and Crouch looked over his shoulder to see her with a mildly confused expression.  
  
"I can only say one thing- use the key from tomorrow to open the door to yesterday."  
  
She hadn't said her last sentence to anyone in particular, but Timothy could feel the words aiming straight at him. Everyone else looked at each other bemusedly, but Timothy kept his gaze on the witch, now helping herself to another bowl of Ocarina's stew.  
  
"And what about us?" Luna asked suddenly, looking back at the witch with expectant eyes. "Do you know how to send Timothy and I back home?"  
  
"The only one who can send you back, my dear, is the same person who sent you here to begin with." Winter's attention was now fully on the steaming bowl of stew in her hands.  
  
Luna stomped a foot and bit her lip.  
  
"But… but… how?"  
  
"Rest now," The old witch stood up and stretched, having finished her second helping. "You'll have to keep moving, Crouch, otherwise his army will be upon us soon.  
  
Crouch simply huffed and stormed off into the forest without a spoken word. Winter paid him no mind, but went about her business into her hut.  
  
"Girl! The little one stays with you, tonight. The boys can fend for themselves."  
  
Ocarina bowed her head and smiled slightly at Luna, who was looking at them all with deep concern. She didn't look the least bit tired, but didn't resist Ocarina's hand leading her into the hut after Witch Winter.  
  
"What about us?!" Timothy called after them, not wanting to sleep outside with an evil wizard loose and magical knights.  
  
"Eh, you don't want to sleep with girls, do yeh?" Patrick crossed his arms and winked down at him.  
  
"Er… 'spose not." Timothy muttered, sweeping his gaze down to his feet.   
  
Patrick laughed and slapped him across the back in a brotherly fashion. He then turned to a nearby tree, and with a pop, was suddenly sitting nestled in the crook of the lower branches. Timothy stared up at him with awe.  
  
"Well?" he called down to him. "C'mon up!"  
  
"Er… I don't know how." Timothy said.  
  
Patrick rolled his eyes and grinned.  
  
"'Course you do! Just think real hard about being up in the tree, and you'll be here. Feel for the ley line near by."  
  
More ley lines, Timothy thought, Patrick must use them like Summerray does in Florida.  
  
He closed his eyes and thought real hard about being up in the tree with Patrick. Suddenly, it felt as if the world closed in around him. Not a second later, the world opened back up and Timothy found himself sitting on Patrick's lap.  
  
"Hey! There yeh are! Not quite the most opportune spot, though. Yeh might look small but yeh don't feel like it! Scoot over, will yeh?" Patrick laughed as Timothy scrambled to an empty space beside him in the crook of the branches. As it was, there was still not that much space, and he was nestled between the side of his ancestor and the rough bark of a large branch. Despite the closeness, Patrick didn't seem to mind. It made Timothy feel a lot better, staying close to someone he could trust… someone like family, who was family, actually.  
  
"What are we going to do, Patrick?" Timothy asked after a few moments of silence.  
  
Patrick let out a long, sleepy sigh. His arm fell around Timothy's shoulders and he patted his arm reassuringly.  
  
"Right now, we sleep. We'll worry about that tomorrow. But, you know what? I think that something important is going to happen… and both you and I have something to do about it."  
  
Yes, Timothy worried silently to himself as he felt Patrick's breathing slow into the rhythm of sleep beside him. At least I have something to do about it… and I don't know what to do.  
  
  
Timothy woke the next morning alone in the tree. Sunlight filtered through the leaves and branches, making him stir and sense the smell of cooking bacon below him. Painfully stretching out the kinks in his muscles from sleeping cramped on the hard, rough wood, Timothy leaned out to see Patrick flipping the bacon on a pan over a fire. Blooming pollen from the forest suddenly became strong, overtaking the delicious smell of bacon and making him sneeze. Patrick looked up and smiled at him.  
  
"Think Ocarina will be impressed?" he called up to him softly. Apparently the girls, and the old witch, were still asleep.  
  
Timothy smiled back at him and nodded. His smile faded, however, when he looked down to the ground and realized just how far up he was. How was he going to get down.  
  
"Patrick Potter, you left the poor youngling up in your nest! Some responsible guardian you are."  
  
Ocarina had suddenly appeared from the hut, looking up at Timothy and scowling at Patrick, who was grinning sheepishly over his bacon.   
  
"'Morning, Miss! Just wanted to give the poor kid a little lie in, that's all." Patrick said cheerfully.  
  
She folded her arms, still scowling at him, but her expression softened kindly as she reached the base of Timothy's tree.  
  
"All you have to do, Timothy, is think real hard about being down here on the ground. Understand?"  
  
He nodded and closed his eyes, thinking hard about his feet touching the grass. The feeling of the world closing in on him returned, but left just as suddenly and Timothy was then standing beside Ocarina, safe on the ground.  
  
"Fast learner," she smiled. "More proof you're related to that big oaf over there."  
  
"I heard that." Patrick mumbled with his mouth full of bacon.  
  
"Timothy?! Timothy!" Luna suddenly stumbled out of the hut.  
  
"What? What?!" he jumped at the panic in her voice.  
  
Everyone turned to look at her, all disheveled and wet with sweat. She blushed a deep crimson and averted her eyes, her voice small and feeble.  
  
"Er… just… just, nothing."  
  
Timothy continued to look at her as they went to sit around the fire with Patrick, eating bacon and listening to the sounds of animals making their morning rounds. Luna refused to look at him, though, and instead stared at her feet.  
  
"I take it the ol' witch left already." Patrick muttered to Ocarina, who nodded.  
  
"Nothing unusual. I really don't know why I'm still here. I'm old enough to be on my own, now." She said.  
  
"Yeah, that'd be the day Crouch decides to let me go." Patrick looked ruefully at the fire.  
  
"Though I hate to see myself as a lonely old witch like Winter." Ocarina nearly whispered to herself.  
  
"Or myself as crabby and self-righteous as Crouch." Patrick groaned.  
  
"That would be bad." Ocarina looked at him.  
  
"Yes." Patrick looked at her.  
  
Both Timothy and Luna stared at the two young adults, eyes locked in blissful silence. Timothy knew that look and rolled his eyes.  
  
Oh, bother.  
  
Luna pretended not to notice, while Timothy quietly slipped away. Neither Patrick, Ocarina, or even Luna noticed as he wandered into the forest. The leaves under his feet were soft and quiet, which he was grateful for. He wanted to be alone to brood on his thoughts.  
  
What did Winter mean by "use the key from tomorrow to open the door to yesterday"? Could she possibly mean the key he had found in the long forgotten corridor under Gryffindor Tower? And what would he find if he did discover the door the key opened? The crest? If so, where was it? Patrick didn't know… and the witch wouldn't tell him. Surely Patrick would help, but Crouch was too preoccupied with this Welles person to direct his attention to Timothy's quest.  
  
Lord Welles. Witch Winter said that he was under the influence of a black hearted witch. The magical knights that he encountered earlier were his army, made more powerful from the black hearted witch's power. Winter said Welles was now searching for something… had been since he allied with the black hearted witch.  
  
Oh, no! He thought suddenly. Welles was the friend Murtov mentioned. She had come into the past as well and somehow got the already evil Welles to go after him… and maybe even Patrick as well. If Patrick were to be killed, then every Potter after him would be erased from history… including Timothy.  
  
He started to run back to the hut, panting as he bolted at top speed. They needed to do something, quickly, before they met up with Welles' army again- or even Welles himself.  
  
"Timothy? Ooof!"  
  
Timothy ran smack into Luna, knocking them both to the ground. He shook his head furiously and glared at her, upset that she had delayed him. However, when her face went flush and cringed, much like how she would have reacted before the dark turns in her life the previous school year, he couldn't bring himself to be cross with her. All Timothy could manage was an impatient grunt as he scrambled to his feet.  
  
"They sent me to find you," Luna said quickly. "Crouch wants us to move out right now."  
  
"I was going to suggest that, anyway." Timothy said distractedly, already brushing past her to move on.  
  
Luna narrowed her eyes at his coldness, but followed steadily behind him and they reached the clearing of Witch Winter's hut. Crouch was standing impatiently with his arms crossed, looking exasperatedly at them all. Witch Winter looked indifferent, standing in her doorway with a distant gaze. Both Patrick and Ocarina were busy preparing sacks filled with rations and supplies. There was one for Crouch, Patrick, Luna, and Timothy… with Timothy and Luna's Hogwarts uniforms tucked inside their own. Timothy quickly checked to make sure that the key… and even his uncle's diary (which he had forgotten to remove before going down to the library) were safe inside.  
  
"You're condemning yourself, Winter." Crouch said coolly as they prepared to leave.  
  
"I flow with the current of life, Crouch. The future will not be the past, and I accept that. You're just too narrow-minded to realize it." Winter replied.  
  
"It's not our fault that things are this way."  
  
"No… but not even magic can reverse what has been destined to be. Muggles and our kind can not co-exist in mutual harmony. Not anymore, not ever." Winter's eyes were solemn.  
  
"They'll find you." Crouch said simply.  
  
"Only if I want them to. Magic changes as well, Crouch. It adapts."  
  
"To each their own. Peace be with you, Witch Winter." Crouch turned and swiftly left.  
  
"And you, William Crouch." Winter turned back into her hut.  
  
Timothy and Luna were instructed to stay between Crouch and Patrick as they traveled, and the children hesitated to follow Crouch out of the clearing, watching Ocarina say goodbye to Patrick.  
  
"Until we meet again, m'lady." Patrick took her hand and kissed it gently.  
  
"Be careful, Patrick Potter." She whispered.  
  
In one quick, hesitant moment, Patrick stood up, leaned forward, and kissed Ocarina tenderly before backing away and jogging towards Timothy and Luna without looking back. He pushed them both forwards firmly as they looked up at him. Ocarina was quickly out of sight.  
  
"Where are we going?" Timothy wondered out loud about an hour later, ending an uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Hush." Crouch snapped.  
  
"Best not to ask now," Patrick whispered in his ear. "I don't even know."  
  
Crouch suddenly stopped, holding up his hand back to them. Everyone went tense, expecting another batch of ruthless magical knights. However, after several minutes of staring, keeping them glued to their spots with apprehension, Crouch let his hands fall to his sides.  
  
"We'll rest here for a moment."  
  
"Master Crouch?" Patrick asked, trying obviously to hide impatience. "Why don't we just apparate?"  
  
Crouch didn't even look at him, but his lips pierced to a thin line.  
  
"Think, boy."  
  
Patrick cocked his head at him, then looked at Timothy and Luna, who were both settled on the grass and looking up at him questionably.  
  
"Oh." He said simply, sitting down himself.  
  
Luna looked bored after a while, keeping off to herself. Timothy, however, couldn't help but stare at Crouch and wonder where he was taking them. Was he going to find a way to send Luna and him home? Or was he simply just going to continue fighting Welles, and leave their fates to chance?  
  
"Staring is not polite, boy." Crouch said suddenly, snapping Timothy out of his stare.  
  
"S-sorry." Timothy immediately averted his eyes.  
  
"Think that you need me to get you and the girl home, eh?" he continued surprisingly.  
  
Timothy blinked, looking to Luna and Patrick who were glancing back cautiously with their own degree of surprise.  
  
"Er…"  
  
"Of course. I am the adult wizard here, with the most experience. Besides Potter, there, I am the only wizard around remotely willing. But no… I cannot, boy, I cannot." Crouch folded his arms.  
  
"Then how…?" Timothy began, but Crouch stopped him.  
  
"Can't you think, boy? Things don't happen for no reason. That witch may have sent you back in time to put you out of the way, but she inadvertently did exactly what was supposed to happen. You're here for a purpose, and you know what it is. Use your head… that's how you'll get home."  
  
Timothy brushed wisps of his bangs away from his eyes, looking at the broad shouldered wizard that emanated superior power. Patrick was glaring at his master, and Luna simply looked fearfully out in the distance. Only a minute passed by before Crouch stood up, grunting to get moving. They followed him in silence like before… only Timothy was busy trying to figure out how to get home.  
  
  
"We'll stop here for the night."  
  
Crouch had led them through the forest for the entire day. They stopped at a stream, leading down from some nearby mountains as the sun disappeared from the horizon. Darkness had settled, and both Crouch and Patrick conjured mage-lights to start a camp. Before long, bedrolls were passed out and set up, along with a roaring fire.  
  
"Where are we going, Master?" Patrick asked wearily.  
  
"Exactly where we need to be." Crouch answered cryptically.  
  
"And where's that?"  
  
"Mind your cheek, boy." Crouch grunted.  
  
"I'm nineteen years old! I wish you would stop calling me 'boy'." Patrick huffed.  
  
"You aren't an adult until you prove yourself as one." Crouch said simply, drinking from a sack of water.  
  
Patrick opened his mouth to say something, but seeing Timothy's reproving face, he decided against it and focused his eyes on the fire. The lack of conversation was unnerving for the next few hours, until Crouch announced them all to bed.  
  
"Potter, you take the first watch. No-" he said to Timothy as he began to stand up. "The older one."  
  
Patrick didn't look at Crouch, but went to stand by the stream as ordered. Both Luna and Timothy looked at each other before lying down on their bedrolls and turning over on opposite sides. Timothy couldn't see where Crouch was, but he was a ways off in the tall grass near the stream. There was a sudden gasp and splash from Patrick's direction, and everyone sat up to see what was wrong.  
  
"S'alright!" He called back. "Was only a snake or something."  
  
Crouch grumbled and went back down. Luna looked white and worried, but slowly curled up on her bedroll too. Only Timothy stayed upright, mouth hanging open in terrified realization.  
  
"Go to sleep, Timothy." Patrick whispered back to him kindly. "It's alright, I'll keep my eye out."  
  
"What color was it?" he whispered hoarsely.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The color… of the snake… what was it?"  
  
"Couldn't tell… it's too dark. Black, perhaps? What? 'Fraid of snakes?" Patrick smiled, but it slowly dissipated as Timothy began to shiver.  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
It was impossible, but somehow Timothy fell asleep before dawn rose. He woke up cramped from the strange position he was in, obviously tense with the knowledge that the black snake that was part of John's vision kept appearing… and even worse, that it was appearing even in the past. Someone was pacing near him, and Timothy sat up to see Luna going back and forth biting her nails.  
  
"Luna?"  
  
"They said to stay here… oh, why did they leave us alone?" she wailed.  
  
"They're gone?" Timothy scrambled to get up.  
  
"They said to stay here." She repeated.  
  
"Why? Where did they go?" Timothy looked around to see, sure enough, that both Crouch and Patrick were gone.  
  
"Patrick was upset, but he had to go. I don't know where, but they left in a hurry." Luna stopped pacing, but continued to bite her nails.  
  
"How long ago?"  
  
"About an hour." She said.  
  
Timothy walked over to the stream and washed his face before taking a quick drink. Back home, his parents would never allow such a thing. But in the past, the water was untainted by pollution, thus safe to drink.  
  
"Timothy, what did Crouch mean by you being the only one that can get us back home?" Luna came up behind him.  
  
He turned and looked at her, before walking past to fiddle with his bedroll to avoid the question.  
  
"Timothy?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well? What did he mean? Do you really know how to get us back home?" Luna crossed her arms, her tone returning to the new personality she had undertaken since after being under the control of Malfoy and her cousin, Taku Smith.  
  
"I don't know how." Timothy answered truthfully, but his body language betrayed him that he was keeping information he didn't want her to know. Maybe it was OK for Darian and John to know his quest, as Professor Peacecraft, but Luna was only a little more than an acquaintance. A Hufflepuff he hardly ever saw.  
  
Luna, however, was smart and looked straight through him.  
  
"You're a whimp, you know that?" she said suddenly.  
  
Timothy looked at her with wide eyes, abashed by her statement.  
  
"Excuse me?!"  
  
"Here I am, thinking you're all big and brave because of you being Timothy Potter. But you're really just a coward, wanting someone else to save your sorry butt… to do all your dirty work." Luna scowled.  
  
Timothy was beside himself.  
  
"Since when did you have any idea-"  
  
"I know that you know! I know that you know how to get us home! But you're afraid! You want someone to come hold your hand and do it all for you! Well, your ancestor might take you under his wing, but it doesn't look like he's all too capable of conjuring up a trip home in his hands. And Crouch! Just looking at him makes me want to burst out into tears! Do you think he'll actually bust his butt to send us home?" Luna growled.  
  
She has a split personality! Timothy thought, shaking his head and glaring at her. What the heck happened to Luna?  
  
"You have no right-"  
  
"This is all your fault!" Luna shrieked.  
  
"My fault?! My fault! Hey, it was pure accident that you got sent with me on this freaked out history lesson! I never intended to be sent back in time! I never intended to be destined to save the world! So don't you dare start telling me that this is my fault!" he hissed dangerously.  
  
"Then why not get your sorry self out from behind Patrick's back and do something?" Luna countered.  
  
"Why not? I'll tell you why not! Alright, if you really have to know- I'm on a quest. A stupid, freaking quest that has been brought upon me to carry out my destiny. And do you know what that is? To destroy Malfoy! Problem is, this quest is a complete mystery. I don't know point A to point B. The most I have is this big insignificant key that opens something that will hopefully lead me to my family crest, the only thing that can enable me to destroy Malfoy and get rid of evil for good. Now, if that isn't enough to make anyone hesitate and avoid fate, I don't know what is." Timothy turned away.  
  
Luna didn't say anything, and he couldn't see her face to see her reaction.  
  
"You're not the only one that has suffered." She whispered abruptly, and before he could turn to say anything, she was running off in the opposite direction… back into the forest.  
  
"You idiot! They said to stay here, didn't they?!" He cried out after her.  
  
She didn't answer, and quickly was lost from view. Timothy stomped his foot, unsure whether or not to go after her or to stay where he was. He stood rooted to his spot for nearly five minutes, straining his eyesight to see if she was coming back. But she didn't. An hour past… then two… when the third became too much to bear, his conscious overtook him. Mumbling angrily to himself, Timothy jogged into the forest.   
****  
  
"It really wasn't wise to leave the kids alone, Master."  
  
"They can take care of themselves long enough until we return."  
  
"But… Timothy. You know as well as I do that Welles and those knights are looking for him."  
  
"Exactly, but Welles doesn't know we're with him. It'll take him by surprise, and we'll have him!"  
  
"But we're not with him, Master. We left him and Luna behind, alone!"  
  
"He's very much capable of defending himself and the girl. You saw what he did the other day with the knight."  
  
"Yes… but, he's still only a child."  
  
"A child with a burden on his shoulders that only his bloodline can carry."  
  
"How much do you know about him that I don't already suspect?"  
  
"Enough to know why Welles is so desperate now to find him… and destroy him. And you."  
  
"Me? Why me?"  
  
"Don't be daft. You're as very much a part of the boy as anything. You must help him find what is missing."  
  
"Do you mean the Potter family crest? He was asking about it, but like I told him, I don't know where it is."  
  
"That is why you must help him."  
  
"I'm not much help to him if I don't even know myself."  
  
"Oh, but you do know."  
  
"Why, exactly, did my mother send me to you and not to Hogwarts like my father and grandfather?"  
  
"Because I was to train the one who would be among the first to start a long line of generations with a great destiny."  
  
"And what is this destiny?"  
  
"To destroy all evil."  
****  
  
There was a horrible scream.  
  
Timothy's heart stopped in terror. The petrified sound was not that far off, and he raced toward it with the blood pounding in his ears. Crashing through brush and bramble, he didn't think about trying to remain unnoticed.  
  
"Luna?!" He cried.  
  
No answer.  
  
"Luna!"  
  
There was a sudden humming sound coming from his right, and he looked in that direction just in time to see a long sword being leveled right at him, building a strange, blue color along the blade. Timothy didn't even blink as he instinctively raised up his hand to block the blow of magic just as the knight wielding the sword shouted out his incantation, releasing his spell. This time, when the intense blue light hit the palm of his hand, Timothy was not knocked down. However, he felt his body jolt as if he had been blindsided by a two-by-four, absorbing the magical shock. Despite the pain, he kept running… hoping to find Luna.  
  
"Impossible!" raged the knight. The iron clad magical being jumped onto the path behind Timothy, raising his sword for another attack. This time, Timothy fumbled in his pocket for his wand, which he had kept there for safety. It proved to be a good idea, for before the knight could lower his sword to direct another spell, Timothy turned and shouted out his own.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
The sword may not have been a wand, but it flew out of the knight's hands regardless, and landed somewhere back in the forest, out of sight.  
  
The knight, for lack of a better word, was shocked. He stood there motionlessly as Timothy bolted back on through the trees… Luna had not screamed again. However, he did begin to hear something. It sounded a lot like hooves.  
  
Timothy stumbled into a meadow, only to look up and see, sure enough, a horse galloping away with a knight atop it… and Luna, draped across it's hide like prized game.  
  
"Luna!" he raised his wand again, racking his brain for a spell that could stop them. But the knight heard him, and looked back with his sword already glowing with the blue magic aimed in his direction. Timothy braced himself, determined to get him first. Yet when the knight released his power, just before it him without a spell to block it… he was hit from the side and thrown to the ground. The blue light of the knight's magic shot over his head and hit a tree, creating a loud snap and crash as it crumbled under the powerful spell.  
  
"You alright?"  
  
It was Patrick, once again coming to save him just in time.  
  
"Do you like to jump on me?" Timothy shouted impatiently. "They have Luna! I could have stopped them!"  
  
Patrick got to his feet and helped Timothy stand up. Timothy began to run in the direction where the knight disappeared with Luna, but Patrick caught his shoulder and held him back.  
  
"There's nothing you can do right now."  
  
"But this is all my fault! I have to get her! She wouldn't have been kidnapped if I hadn't of let her go out in the forest alone." Timothy wailed, feeling immense guilt wash over him once more toward Luna.  
  
That girl causes nothing but guilt… oh, why me? Why me? He thought to himself bitterly.  
  
Crouch appeared calmly behind them, stepping from the trees and looking out where the knight had disappeared.  
  
"This changes things," he muttered, his voice nonplussed. "Once again I underestimate Welles."  
  
"It was one of his knights, Master. Apparently they were sent to kidnap Luna, or something along those lines." Patrick said back to him.  
  
"Yes, well, the girl is not the priority." Crouch shook his head.  
  
Timothy's jaw dropped, mortified.  
  
"We can't just leave her to this Welles person!" he cried, looking desperately from Patrick to Crouch in turn. "We have to save her!"  
  
"Eventually." Crouch wasn't at all perturbed by Timothy's enraged cry. He simply looked to Patrick, who wasn't looking at his master with contentment.  
  
"Now is the time to prove yourself, Potter. You want to go out on your own? Here's your chance. Take the boy and head east. I'll go after where I last knew Welles to be, and hopefully find the girl there as well. Welles obviously is trying to lure you both to him with the capture of the girl. Well, we'll prove him otherwise. There are more important matters to take care of that I'm sure Welles is trying desperately hard to prevent. You both must make sure he doesn't succeed."  
  
Patrick's face was set, standing next to Timothy and staring intently at Crouch. Timothy was simply baffled, not sure what to think. How could he possibly go off on a nature hike somewhere when Luna was being held captive? Sure, the girl was constantly on his nerves, annoying, whiney, and provocative… but… she had saved his life the year before. And, he wasn't sure why, but he knew he could trust her. It was that trust that made his will to make things right by finding her that made him so upset at the situation.  
  
"Patrick, we can't let Luna go!" he looked up desperately at him.  
  
He slowly looked down, his eyes suddenly looking very much older, but understanding.  
  
"There is nothing we can do for her right now, only to keep going where we were headed. Crouch will do what he can… but you must let him do it himself- leave it to a grown-up. You and me, we have something that needs to be done, and done quickly. You'll have to help me, as I will help you. Understand?"  
  
His soft tone of voice calmed Timothy, as he stared into his brown eyes. Slowly, although not altogether understanding what he said, he nodded. Patrick smiled wearily and looked back to his master.  
  
"Peace be with you, Master." He nudged Timothy's shoulder to turn him back into the forest.  
  
"And with both of you, Patrick and Timothy Potter."   
  
Crouch suddenly disappeared, apparently disapparating.  
  
Patrick walked closely behind Timothy as they approached their camp. They quickly gathered their supplies and left the site, continuing on up the path they had been following before stopping for the night the previous day. Patrick led in front of him, and Timothy couldn't help but to keep looking back… still feeling like he was abandoning Luna. He had no clue where they were going, and while Patrick said he didn't really know either, he at least knew which direction to go in.  
  
"Do your parents know you're on this quest?" Patrick asked suddenly over his shoulder.  
  
Timothy jolted slightly at the break in the silence.  
  
"Er… no. I was told not to tell anyone, that they wouldn't believe me." He answered quietly.  
  
Patrick slowed down to walk beside him.  
  
"Why? Who told you that?"  
  
Timothy took a moment to deliberate on whether or not to explain everything in its entirety. So far, everyone he's told has believed him… why wouldn't Patrick? He shrugged and explained the previous year's events: how he had met Luna, the strange behavior of Taku Smith, his encounter with Malfoy in the Offender's Oubliette, and how he had escaped. Timothy hesitated as he began to tell him about meeting the shadows of his grandfather, and both himself and his father from the future.  
  
"I don't see why you can't tell your parents, though." Patrick said as they struggled up a hill. "They have a right to know, as far as I'm concerned."  
  
"Well, think about it. My parents had to defeat a terrible wizard as well, and they were the only ones who could do it. They nearly died a number of times before they finally destroyed him. Now, after years of peace, the danger has returned. Malfoy has proven himself to be more cunning and cocky. While my parents know that I'm the one who can destroy him, they aren't aware, as far as I know, how. I don't think they expect me to have to face him so soon. But then, my father had to confront that evil wizard as a baby… and he survived. He's 'the boy who lived'. However, I'm not my father… or my mother. I don't think I'll be able to do it."  
  
Patrick squeezed his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.  
  
"Ah, don't worry. From what I've seen, you're a mighty powerful wizard. I can only imagine how proud your parents must be. I'm sure, if you just try your best, you'll overcome this. You'll find the crest, and get back home. This Malfoy will have his work cut out for him."  
  
Timothy smiled slightly, but he had a hard time believing Malfoy ever being afraid of him. They didn't speak again for a long time, not until the sun was beginning to set and they had finally reached the edge of the forest. By that time, they were both aching and panting from the long hike, stumbling onto a dirt road.  
  
"Do you know where we are now?" Timothy asked, holding the ache in his side.   
  
"Yeah, someplace completely different from where we were when we started." Patrick stretched his arms.  
  
"That's funny." Timothy muttered without laughing.  
  
"Thought so," Patrick grinned wearily. "Hey, do you see that house up there?"  
  
He pointed down the path where a large mansion sat on the horizon. Timothy squinted in the retreating light, rubbing his glasses to see better. It sure wasn't a house, but almost a castle. While it was fairly far away down the path, it was so large, that it wasn't hard to spot at all.  
  
"House?" Timothy's jaw dropped. "That place is big enough to have it's own zip code!"  
  
"Zip code?" Patrick looked at him quizzically.  
  
"Something my mum says a lot."  
  
"Where's your mum from? I've never heard of it before."  
  
"She's from Florida. An American." Timothy then realized that Patrick might have never heard of America before. For all he knew, the world was flat. "It's this place real far away."  
  
"Oh." Patrick said simply, bewildered. Timothy was too tired to go into a geography lesson, and Patrick didn't inquire more.  
  
"Well, let's go see if we can kip there for the night. I don't fancy sleeping in the grass again, and it's not safe for that anyhow." Patrick started walking.  
  
"But what if Muggles live there?" Timothy asked, catching up with him.  
  
"Then we're Muggles too. Don't bring out your wand or do any magic, alright? What was that name you used before? Springs? Well then, if they are Muggles, which is most likely, then you're Timothy Springs and I'm Patrick Springs. You're my little brother, alright? Just stick to the story of just passing through and we'll be fine."  
  
"OK." Timothy said, with little doubt.  
  
They trudged up the path, the aches and pains of traveling on foot for so long increasing every moment, so by the time they reached two huge iron gates surrounded the perimeter of the large mansion, Timothy had to sit down.  
  
"Is anyone home?" he asked Patrick breathlessly.  
  
Patrick shrugged, peering through the gates and the ivy vines covering it. There was a sign, however, on the stone wall attached to the gates. It was weatherworn and dull with age, but Timothy could just make out the words: DEVONSHIRE MANOR.  
  
"Devonshire Manor? Does that mean a lord lives here?" Timothy wondered out loud.  
  
"Probably." Patrick said.  
  
"Well? What're we going to do? Knock?"  
  
"No one would hear us."  
  
"Can't we use magic to open the gates?" But that suggestion was killed just as it left Timothy's mouth, realizing that using magic was not wise.  
  
"Well, it looks like this idea won't work. We better get moving again and find some place to break camp where it's safe." Patrick sighed.  
  
Timothy got to his feet and studied the gates, dreading having to sleep another night on the hard ground. But standing there and waiting for someone to show up was futile, if not stupid, so he nodded and turned with Patrick to move on.  
  
"Where do we go n-ahhh!" Timothy began to ask, but as he stepped on a patch of leaves, he suddenly fell right through into a hidden hole!  
  
"Timothy! Tim-ahhhh!" Patrick rushed to catch him, but only fell through as well.   
  
"AHHH!"  
  
"HOLY FRUITS!"  
  
"Holy WHAT?!"  
  
"AHHH!"  
  
"AHHH!"  
  
"Ooof!"  
  
"Ow!"  
  
They landed on top of each other in a heap, hitting hard compacted dirt in absolute darkness. What little light that could be made out came from the distant pinpoint of the light above them. Painfully, they untangled themselves and sat panting in the dark.  
  
"What IS this thing?!" Timothy cried.  
  
"A hole." Patrick said.  
  
"No, duh. Why is there a hole here?"  
  
"No idea… I don't know that much about Muggles."  
  
"Did a Muggle even make this hole? Wait… what's that noise?" Timothy struggled to look in the dark.  
  
"I'm not sure…" Patrick grabbed his arm.  
  
A low growling sound reverberated against the dirt walls of the hole, making them both move closer instinctively. Timothy began to make out a flash of red in the dark- and the growling got louder.  
  
"Er… Patrick?" he hissed in his ear. "There's something in here with us."  
  
"Whoever made this hole made it to catch whatever it is." He whispered back.  
  
"Do you think we can manage a light? I'd rather chance being seen by a Muggle than getting attacked in the dark." Timothy suggested.  
  
"Right, OK." Patrick held out his hand, palm upward, and instantly a globe of light appeared. Appeared- just as the flash of red became a flash of teeth!  
  
"OH SH-… AHH!"  
  
"AHHH!"  
  
  
A/N: Well, how was it? Going good? Good cliffhanger? I know readers like raew, merf, Trinity, 007, and aragog have been enjoying the chapters... how 'bout you? Leave a review and let me know, 'k? Let's see.... there are a few chapters after this one, maybe four or more.  
  
HTTP://WWW.THEWORLDOFRENEEPOTTER.DISNEYFANSITES.COM  
New fanart and recommended books! Updated often!  
  
Oh, and Merf, I'll let you beta read my next fic (whatever that may be). It's best for me just to get this story wrapped up asap. Expect chapter 11 by 4/6/01!  
  
~OrcaPotter  
"I am who I make myself to be. I'll take the road less traveled." 


	11. The Ancient Forest

A/N: Holy fruits ****

A/N: Holy fruits! Could it be? Oh my, yes! The next chapter to _Shadows of Yesterday_! It's been, what, 4 months? ::sigh:: Writing _Beyond the Emerald Green_ is completely different from writing this, and getting back to the middle of this chapter when I got done was very _hard_. Timothy had gone on hiatus and was refusing to come back (the evil child ::chuckles::). Well, I forced myself to get through this, and hopefully it's not too messed up toward the end. I decided to give my two wonderful beta readers a rest and I'll finish this story as fast as I can get it typed. If you haven't done so, you may need to backtrack a bit to remember all that's going on by re-reading previous chapters. Otherwise, let's go people! DO review!

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Chapter Eleven: The Ancient Forest 

"AHHH!"

The flash of red and white teeth was on top of Patrick and clamped tightly on his arm. Timothy fumbled for his wand, pulling it out and trying desperately to distinguish the now swirling mass of struggling bodies next to him.

"Get it off! Get it off! Ow! Ow!" Patrick yelped, unable to use his own magic.

"Hold still! I can't tell where it is to hex it!" Timothy screamed, reaching with his free hand to grab Patrick's shoulder.

"Just hex it! I don't care what you do, just hex- oof!"

A large rock suddenly crashed onto Patrick's head, knocking him out completely and his body went limp.

"Patrick!" Timothy cried, fearing the worst, and still trying desperately to hold an eye on the animal that was still clamped tightly on Patrick's now bloody arm.

Another rock suddenly fell from no where and landed on the beast, knocking it out as well. Timothy went ridged, preparing for another rock attack, when he heard someone shouting:

"Well, did I hit it?"

He craned his head back to peer above him to the light. Someone was leaning over the hole.

"Come now, tell me! Are you alright?" it was a man with a deep, regal voice.

"Er… you hit my… my… brother!" Timothy managed to squeak out to him. "But you also hit the animal too."

"Jolly good! That darn pest of a beast has been prowling through my gardens far too long. Sorry 'bout your brother there, chap. I'll get a rope down, stay put."

The man disappeared, and Timothy looked over to the two unconscious bodies. Patrick was out cold, a large swelling on his head from where the rock hit. His shirtsleeve was red with blood, torn where the animal had locked its teeth around it. The animal itself was laying at his feet, and Timothy then realized exactly what it was.

"A fox?!" he cried dubiously.

"All right down there?!" the man was back.

"My brother's pretty hurt!" Timothy called up to him.

"Just tie the rope 'round him and we'll get him up!" 

A thick end of rope fell onto Timothy's lap, and with little hesitation, he crawled over to Patrick and gently- but firmly, tied it around him under his arms.

"OK!" he shouted.

"Alright men, HEAVE!"

With a horrible lurch, Patrick was pulled off the ground and dragged back up the hole. Timothy watched apprehensively, eyeing the still form of the fox next to him. When dirt crumbled onto his head after Patrick was pulled up and out of the hole, the rope dropped back down.

"Your turn, lad!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Timothy tied the rope around himself and gave it a tug. Instantly he was pulled up, however uncomfortably, but away from the dangerous unconscious fox. He kept bumping off the walls, but managed to get up to the top and was grabbed by several hands, pulling him to his feet.

"There yeh be!" said a tall, graying man. He was dressed in fine, elaborate clothing. The men around him wore more simple and dirty attire, obviously servants. The man must have been the lord of the manor.

"T-thank you." Timothy stuttered.

"Sorry 'bout the hole, but it's the only way to get the retched things." The lord said, shaking his head with distaste in the direction of the hole.

Timothy nodded as well, but looked around for Patrick, who was no where to be seen.

"Your big brother has been taken up to my manor for care. S'my fault he's so beat up. You could do with some too, come with me."

Before Timothy could blink, the lord grabbed his shoulders and led him through the large iron gates in the wall up the walk to the enormous manor. As he stepped into the stone foyer, the lord slapped his back hard and laughed at his awe.

"Welcome to Devonshire Manor, my boy! My name is Lord Ceptor, by the way, pardon my late introduction."

"I'm Timothy P- er, Springs. Timothy Springs. My brother is Patrick Springs. Thank you again for getting us out of your hole." Timothy said carefully.

"No problem, my fault you were down there to begin with. Now, just follow Florn up those stairs and he'll get you settled. If you're up to it, I do hope you'd join me for dinner this evening?" He pointed to a man dressed slightly more pristinely than the other servants, who was waiting on the stairs with a blank expression.

"Er… sure, that'd be great, thank you." Timothy said distantly.

Lord Ceptor grinned and pushed him toward the staircase, where Timothy fell into pace behind the servant Florn. The staircase he was ascending then was only one of several large staircases in the manor, and he had to climb three of them before Florn led him silently down a corridor lined with numerous bedroom doors. He stopped at the second one from the end and opened the door.

"Lady Epona insists she tend to your wounds. She will be with you shortly. Should you need anything, just call." Florn said with professional boredom.

"Er… thanks." Timothy stepped inside as Florn closed the door behind him. There was a large, four poster bed covered in rich velvet and a rug on top of the stone floor woven with an intricate pattern. As he stepped closer to look at everything, exhaustion from the day finally caught up to him, and the sight of the large bed was a welcome invitation. He jumped onto the covers and buried his head into the pillow, smelling a mustiness that must have been the result of lack of use. His eyes were drooping with sleep, but before he could loose himself in his languor, Timothy heard the bedroom door open.

"Hello?" called a soft and quiet voice.

"Uh… yes?" Timothy sat up and pulled the curtains around the bed open.

Standing in the doorway was a girl, maybe two years older or so than Timothy. She was slightly taller than he was, with long brown hair and amber colored eyes. In her arms were various bandages and bottles, and when she saw him, she smiled and did not hesitate to come right to the bed's side and pull the curtains apart fully.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" she asked, opening a bottle and dabbing the liquid inside on a piece of cloth.

Timothy opened his mouth to answer, but caught himself staring wordlessly at the girl. She was very pretty, wearing a simple gown that complemented her elegantly. When he didn't respond, she looked at him with proficient concern.

"I take it that was your older brother I tended to just now?" she asked, leaning over to part his bangs and look into his eyes. 

"D'er…" Timothy muttered stupidly. The girl laughed.

"That was just about the same answer he gave me, too. My name is Lady Epona, what's yours?"

"Timothy P-Springs." He had to catch himself again.

"Well then, Master Springs, you have a few cuts I can mend. You're big and strong, so you won't mind a little sting, right?"

Timothy shook his head vigorously, as she took the moistened cloth and dabbed the small cuts on his arms and face. He always hated the stinging potions his mother would use when he had serious cuts, but the primitive solution Epona was using packed a punch. He couldn't help but let a few winces and whimpers eddy out.

"There you go," she soothed, ignoring his childish reactions. "Your brother will take longer to heal, but you'll be just fine."

"Thank you." He blushed deeply.

"My father wishes you to join us for dinner. You should wash up and come down when you're ready. Alright?" Lady Epona packed up her things.

He nodded vigorously again and she smiled, leaving his room and shutting the door behind her. Immediately he got up and went to a basin where warm water was sitting with a pitcher full of more. He cleaned himself the best he could, grimacing at the sight of his tattered clothing. Then he remembered his school uniform, which was in a lot better shape from not being worn. Although Timothy never recalled how it got there, his bundle including his uniform robes were sitting at the foot of the bed. He quickly pulled his robes on, smoothing out the wrinkles, and felt his uncle's diary and the large muggle key still safe inside his pockets. After trying to tame his hair without avail, he tentatively left the room and tried to find his way downstairs to the dining hall.

"May I help you, young sir?"

Seemingly out of nowhere, Florn was leaning over him as Timothy began to go down a flight of stairs.

"Er… I was looking for the dining hall, or wherever Lord Ceptor and Lady Epona were going to eat." Timothy said.

"Follow me." Florn quickly led him down the stairs and back through the foyer, leading him into a large hall with a long dining table. At the far end, three plate settings were spread out, and Lord Ceptor was already seated at the head chair.

"Ah! There he is! Come in! Come in, don't be shy! Here, sit right beside me there." Ceptor stood up to shake Timothy's hand, taking a good look at him as well.

"Say, I've never seen such fine clothes. How intriguing! Do tell me who you tailor is." Ceptor sat down.

"My tailor?" Timothy squeaked, remembering with a stab of realization that he was with Muggles- wearing his _Hogwarts uniform_. It was amazing Ceptor hadn't noticed and begin to shout about demons. "Oh, er… well… my-my parents made it… for me."

"Such creative talent," Ceptor mused, taking up his goblet and taking a swig after one of the servants had poured it full of wine. "You must tell me about yourself, young Timothy. Where are you from?"

Timothy was about to answer when the door opened and Lady Epona stepped into the hall.

"I believe you've met my daughter, Epona?" Ceptor asked.

"Yes, my lord." Timothy answered with what he hoped was the proper respect.

"Good evening, father. Good evening, Timothy." Epona smiled and sat down, servants immediately filling her goblet with wine. It was at that point, smiling stupidly at her, that Timothy realized that his goblet, too, was filled with wine.

"Er… excuse me, but…" he began to point it out, when Ceptor raised his goblet high.

"To our guest, and to the speedy recovery of his elder brother! Here, here!" he cried, taking another swig. Epona did the same, although a little more reservedly. Timothy, however, stared at his goblet doubtfully. If his parents knew he had been drinking wine…

"Well? What's wrong, my boy?"

"I've never had wine before." Timothy answered truthfully.

"Never had wine?! I say, then there's never been a better time to have it now! Go ahead, young man, drink!" Ceptor looked at him intently, while Epona seemed to hide a giggle.

He blushed furiously, and quickly, yet cautiously, took a sip. Never before had he drunk something more bitter. Despite the twisted look that must have been on his face, Ceptor laughed and cuffed him on the back again.

"There you go! Now, my young friend, do tell us where you were headed before running across my fox hole."

"Well er… well, er…" Timothy hadn't a clue on what to say. He couldn't tell the truth, but the thought of lying to this man and his daugther was unnerving.

"You are on a quest, are you not?" Epona asked quietly with a kind smile.

Timothy blinked, astounded.

"Er… yes, yes… we are."

_Did Patrick tell her_? He thought to himself as Ceptor considered him.

"A quest, eh? Sounds exciting, do tell!"

Timothy groaned… his quest was far from exciting.

"I have to find something, and bring it home." It was partially the truth.

"Oh? And what is it? Maybe I could help." Ceptor leaned closer to him, making Timothy gulp.

"With all due respect, my lord, I'm afraid that that's highly unlikely."

Ceptor frowned, leaning back in his chair.

"Father," Epona said suddenly, calmly turning to him. "Young Master Timothy has had a terrible experience and I believe it is best for him to have rest tonight. Perhaps if you set aside conversation like this for tomorrow, Timothy will be more comfortable."

He looked at her reproachfully before finally nodding and looked at Timothy with a slight smile.

"Quite right, dear daughter. Yes, pardon my encroachment, I apologize. You just eat up and retire early, no worry."

The dinner, however filling and warm it was to Timothy's senses, felt awkward as it was eaten in silence. Ceptor didn't say anything more, and Epona seemed to just stare at Timothy the entire time, only when he looked up did she look away.

As soon as the last bite was taken, Ceptor got up and excused himself politely. Epona didn't seem fazed, however, and offered to call Florn in to take Timothy to his room.

"Thank you," Timothy said, getting up.

"Our pleasure," Epona smiled up at him kindly.

Uncertainly, he did a little bow and followed the silent Florn back up to his room. As tired as he was, Timothy couldn't bring himself to lie down, he was too worked up. How did Lady Epona know he was on a quest? He paced his room uncertainly, his thoughts bouncing around his head. 

Night fell and the castle was impossibly more silent than ever, yet Timothy could not keep still. Thinking it best to go check on Patrick, he left his room to go look for him. Yet the castle held more rooms than he could count, and Timothy soon got lost.

"Are you lost, Young Master Springs?"

Epona suddenly appeared behind him, smiling her kind smile. Timothy jumped in surprise, for he hadn't heard her sneak up on him.

"I was… er… I was…" he stammered.

"Looking for something? Your elder brother is in the room next to yours, you know." She grinned.

Timothy looked at her in bewilderment.

"I could have sworn…"

"But that's not what you are looking for, is it?" Epona tilted her head, and her gaze seemed to pass right through him.

"I…" Timothy didn't know what to say.

"You are looking for something very important… important to not only yourself… your family… and the people…" She continued in a mysterious whisper, then her face suddenly became sharp and clear. "I know where it is."

Timothy blinked, staring at her.

"Where what is?" he asked suspiciously.

"Come with me," Epona grabbed his hand and led him out of the castle. She led him out to the back, where some very large and expansive gardens were carefully groomed. The moon was full, its light casting their shadows long across the grounds. Epona stopped at the edge of the furthest garden.

"Where are we?" Timothy asked, peering through the darkness.

"At the edge of the Ancient Forest. You'll find what you need here." She answered quietly.

"How do you know what it is I'm looking for? I never said anything." He tried to look at her.

"Because you look like the man inside the tree." Epona whispered.

Timothy blinked at her.

"The what?"

"You better go now, before my maidens find that I'm missing." She turned to leave. Timothy grabbed her arm before she moved off; her expression made him drop it quickly.

"Sorry. But, er… where do I go?" he asked.

"The _big_ tree. You'll know when you see it." She answered, then walked off. He wasn't sure how, but Timothy lost sight of her almost immediately. 

_Bet ten Galleons she's a witch._ He thought, then he turned and walked into the Ancient Forest.

After a few hours, Timothy started to feel exhausted. He had yet to find any tree that stood out from all the others. Looking around, he felt as if he was back in the woods not far from his grandparents' house in Florida. Only, here, the forest was dark and astonishingly more frightening. Timothy wanted nothing more than to have Patrick by his side. Or, better yet, be back _home_ with his family.

Then another thought hit him. Where was Luna now? Was she all right? Had Crouch found her yet? It distracted him so much that he didn't see what he walked into.

"Ouch!" he cried, for he had walked into another tree. "What is it with me and trees that I have to walk into every single one of them?"

Timothy stood back to see the wooden menace, gingerly touching a long cut that the bark had caused. It was a huge tree. A tree so large, if he tried, he wouldn't be able to wrap his arms around it completely. It was a lot bigger than the others.

"Could this be the tree she was talking about?" he asked out loud. He walked around it, trying to discern what made it so special. Suddenly, as Timothy stepped on an exposed root, the tree began to _move_. "Yeah, this would be it."

He watched as the enormous tree slid from its base, revealing a dark hole. Even minutes after it had stopped moving, Timothy continued to deliberate whether-or-not to go down inside. He stood there, contemplating everything that had happened to him up to that point, before concluding that this isn't anything more out of the ordinary than he had experienced so far. Making up his mind, Timothy stepped down inside the hole.

Instantly, the dark hole became a bright one. Timothy found himself in a hallway, lit by torches that had magically come to life with fire. Cautiously, he made his way forward, trying to keep the increasing feeling of nervousness inside of himself from overtaking him. Although, somehow, Timothy also felt that this place was not dangerous; that somehow, this place was here for him. This feeling confused him, and he became steadily more confused when he began to come upon some old murals painted faintly on the walls of the hallway.

"Whoa…!" he gasped, looking at a mural of two wizards. One of them wore very exquisite wizarding robes of burgundy and gold. He was tall, with a long white beard. The other was not as tall, with black hair that wasn't as neatly painted. His robes were simple, yet elegant, and despite the differences with each other, both wizards seemed to be very powerful.

Timothy looked at the mural next to it, and the same two wizards were there. This one depicted the tall wizard handing over a golden ax to the black haired wizard. The mural further down showed a completely different scene, showing the black haired wizard cutting down a huge oak tree with the golden ax. After this one, Timothy gasped again, for the next mural had the wizard using the wood from the tree and the golden ax to make what looked like a shield. A _crest_.

"I can't believe this," Timothy was so happy he was on the verge of tears. "I found it! The crest must be here!"

Overwhelmed with joy, he ran past the rest of the murals, wanting nothing but to get to the end of this long hall and find the end of his long search. Abruptly, the hall ended, and Timothy was yet again confronted with a large wooden door.

_The key. The Muggle key!_ Timothy remembered, fishing through his Hogwarts robes. Sure enough, in one of his pockets he found the old key. Searching over the door, the keyhole was huge- made just for the key.

"Oh yeah, I'm a genius! Thank God! This is almost over!" Timothy could hardly contain himself. Jiggling the old key in his haste, there was a loud click as the lock came undone. He pushed the door open, eager to see the Potter family crest waiting for him. Torchlight flooded the opened room, fell upon the walls… the floor… the large slab at the center, and onto…

The golden ax.

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A/N: Well, he's back folks! And oh my, aren't I the evil one, torturing him so with this little family crest situation? ::giggles:: Aww, the little Potter is too cute that you can't help but pester him. Now, if I sent his mom on this quest, she'd be going bananas right now. So, let's see, what now? Well, obviously he's got a golden ax! What shall he do with it? You'll have to wait and see!

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Orca on the Web: My website is the ultimate way to keep up to date with my stories, as well as learn what other novels you can read besides Harry, earn awards, submit fanart, and learn more about my other fics! Head on over there by clicking [http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com][1] Like Timothy a lot? I've made a desktop image staring him, Darian, John, and Jeff the Jefforagon that you can download. Check it out on the "Earn an Award" page!

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Please Review!

~Orca

[OrcaMorph@aol.com][2]

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	12. Surprises and Rescues

A/N: Chapters like this one are going to be slow in the coming since I'm now a college student ****

A/N: Chapters like this one are going to be slow in the coming since I'm now a college student.. and a college student on the college newspaper staff! It didn't help matters that I got a major case of writer's block not even halfway through this, but then it came back to me and the words came easily. I do feel that you'll be pleased with this chapter, and hope that all of you are following along even after such a long break. _Please review_… reviews are more important now than ever before, so help me out!

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Disclaimer: Yeah, I disclaim everything except everything I create myself. ::grins::

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Chapter Twelve: Surprises and Rescues 

Timothy's heart stopped. Here he was, ready to grab the retched crest, only to face something completely different. The ax was nothing spectacular, other than the fact that it was made of pure gold. Hesitantly, Timothy stepped up to the large slab on which the ax sat and gingerly picked it up. Much to his surprise, it didn't weigh as heavy as it looked. The ax was almost pleasantly light and agile, and Timothy realized that he was swinging it back and forth. He stopped abruptly, anger and frustration building inside of him. What now? The key, apparently, was meant to open the door leading to the ax. Now that he had gotten this far, was the crest the next step? The murals that were painted in the hallway just outside showed the black haired wizard making the Potter crest. They were connected, the ax and the crest, so did that mean that in order to find the crest the ax had to be used again? If so, where was Timothy to go now? It was all so dizzying that Timothy sat down on the spot, ignoring the layer of dust and dirt from the floor that was getting all over his school robes.

What exactly _was_ this ax, anyway? Timothy studied it, turning it over in his hands. There was nothing fancy about it at all, which was surprising for such an apparently important object. Some simple decorative carving surrounded the handle, but everything else about it was ordinary except for it being gold. Well, there was nothing more down where he was to do, and fatigue was quickly befalling him. Timothy gruffly got to his feet, carefully slid the ax under his pants' belt, and pocketed the key again. Ignoring the murals on the walls when he left, thinking they had nothing more to offer, he climbed up the hole under the tree and stepped back unto grass. Almost instantly after he had cleared the hole, the huge oak tree slid back into place. It was exactly as it was before he had been there. For a moment, Timothy stared at the dark woods around him, feeling an odd notion of being watched… judged… and grinned at. He shook his head, feeling silly, and began the walk back to Devonshire Manor.

For an odd reason Timothy couldn't understand, the walk back to the gardens furthest from the Manor wasn't as long as it was when he left it. He found himself standing amongst its roses, the dark red color of the blossoms even darker with the lack of light. The moon was hidden by overcast, so Timothy treaded carefully. He didn't dare light his wand or use magic, not with Muggles so close nearby. He didn't want to chance that someone might be awake. Timothy suspected that Epona might already think he was a wizard, or something along those lines. Even then, he didn't want to prove her right less she decided to tell anyone.

As quietly as he could, Timothy made his way through the inner gardens and at last reached a servant door. Everything was dark and gloomy, and he took a deep breath before he stepped inside. Timothy had always been wary of the dark. The story about how his father lived almost his entire childhood locked in a dark cupboard, and how his mother was captive in complete darkness for weeks, always made him scared for them. Whenever he had a bad dream, the dark would taunt him, and the only comfort was crawling between his parents in their bed. Many times his parents woke up to find him curled under their blankets, or woke up when he yelped because his father almost crushed him when he turned over, or his mother slapping his face when her own dream caused her to lash out. Yet they never got angry, his parents were always understanding, and many times either one of them would get up and lay with him in his bed until he fell asleep again. The darkness could do nothing to his parents, and that thought made him feel safe.

Yet, as Timothy struggled to find his way out of the bowels of the Manor and back upstairs to his room, his fear of the dark intensified. His parents were thousands of years in the future, and he was all alone. He felt strangely vulnerable and defenseless… a vague memory of being pinned in a corner as a small child while some demon laughed at him in the darkness of his own room. _Malfoy_… that's who the demon was. He had been after Timothy since he was five years old… kept him captive in his room for days until he finally left. He was a creature of darkness… and it was this creature that Timothy had to face and destroy. All alone.

So caught up in his memories and thoughts, that Timothy didn't realize the firelight that hit his eyes when he walked into the lobby. It was the voices that stopped him.

"We have reason to believe that a boy and a young man have come by this way." Said a dark voice.

"That is true. Are they in some sort of trouble, sirs?" Answered a drawling voice that could only be Florn.

"The pair have been accused of witchcraft. His Majesty the king has ordered their arrest." Another gruff voice.

Timothy nearly swallowed his tongue in shock and fear. Quickly, he ducked behind a pillar and strained to see who the men were. In the firelight that came from several lit torches around the front doors, were five very large looking men. They were dressed in black armor, and looked nothing like the royal guardsmen that had apprehended Timothy before. No, no these men carried themselves differently… a way that was unmistakable.

These men worked for Lord Welles, the evil wizard in which Crouch was after. Somehow, they found out about him and Patrick.

Florn said nothing right away, and that was too long for the men. One of them brushed past him and ran upstairs, closely followed by three more. The servant opened his mouth to protest, but the head man raised a hand and not a sound came out of Florn's mouth. Timothy quailed in fear, wondering what to do. He would give himself away if he were to go warn Patrick. Then they'd both be caught. Distract them then? But how? Timothy pulled out his wand and grasped it tightly, racking his brain for a spell or hex. He was taking too long, for in a moment he could hear Patrick's shouts as the men dragged him downstairs. Paralyzed with fear, Timothy could only watch as his ancestor was roughly pulled into sight, the head man leering at him triumphantly. His expression changed, however, when he realized that they only had Patrick.

"Where is the boy?" He demanded.

"We couldn't find him, sir." Answered one.

"Fools! He's the one that his lordship wants most! You find him or else you'll no longer have eyes with which to search!" The head man raged, and the men who weren't holding Patrick ran back up the stairs. Timothy watched helplessly as Patrick struggled in the grips of the men. The leader laughed mercilessly.

"Not even the great wizard fool known as _Potter_ can do anything against the _Cipiola_ spell. It leaves you without your precious magic, as you can see. Soon, his lordship will have control over the land once again, and those stupid enough to resist him will have no more power!"

Patrick glared up at him, trying to fight back but with no avail. Timothy couldn't stand it any longer, he was just about to jump out and start some sort of diversion, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Master Potter."

Stifling a scream, Timothy turned to see Lady Epona smiling serenely at him in his shadow.

"You're a witch." He blurted out bluntly, not realizing he had said it too loud. Epona quickly slapped her hand over his mouth and nodded.

"You can say that… and _you're_ a wizard. So is your brother, but I'm afraid he has had a most terrible spell put upon him. Those are Lord Welles' men."

Timothy pulled her hand away and looked back at the magical henchmen that were quickly growing more annoyed.

"Yes, and I'm too much of a coward to think of something." He whispered.

"Shh!" Epona hissed as the others of Welles' men returned empty-handed.

"WHERE IS THE LITTLE WORM?" Bellowed the leader, his team cowering at his feet. Patrick let out a relieved sigh, before the head man punched him hard in the ribs. "Well, the runt is too small to go on without his kinsman. We'll just go back and wait for _him _to come to _us_."

"But… sir, do you think it wise to judge this wizard child…" Spoke one of the men meekly. The head man's expression was dangerous, and the man shrunk back behind one of his fellows.

"You're going to go after them, of course." Epona whispered as the men left the Manor.

"What else can I do? But they know I'm coming and will be ready for me." Timothy groaned.

"You're more powerful than you realize." Epona said, her voice level since the coast was clear.

Timothy turned to her, his fear plain on his face.

"I'm only twelve years old, Epona. My parents are… are far away. I don't know anything. How can I possibly beat these men?"

Her expression was soft, yet there was a ferocity in her eyes that made Timothy feel more confident.

"You aren't who you appear to be. The magic flows to you like river into the ocean. You are a very _strong_ wizard and I feel that your parents are as well. Yet, like you said, they aren't here… but you are as much a part of them as they are a part of you, and so you can do _anything_ you put your mind to. Courage isn't the absence of fear, but the acknowledgement of it and power to overcome it. You have that power. There is much expected of you, indeed, but the pressing matter now is the life of your ancestor and your friend." 

He stared at her, awestruck.

"How did you…?"

"I'm a sort of witch, remember? I know that if your ancestor dies, so will you and your entire family. If your friend dies, so will your future." She said quickly.

"Why…?" Timothy was confused, but Epona pushed him out toward the door.

"Better get going, Master Potter. And do be careful with that ax, it's not what it seems."

Even though he hadn't slept for nearly a day, Timothy ran down the worn path that Lord Welles' men had made while dragging Patrick away to where ever Lord Welles was. He knew that he was running straight into a trap, but he knew of no other way of which to follow. It was quite possible that the men were hiding in ambush, ready to jump out at Timothy. Yet his mind was too caught up in what he will do when he got to where Patrick and Luna were. And what about Crouch? Hadn't he set out to find Lord Welles and save Luna as well? Was the whole purpose of going out with Patrick in the other direction simply to obtain the ax? Well then, he was going the right way after all… there was no other way to go.

Timothy's reserve energy eventually began to fail, and he had yet to come upon anything remotely like Lord Welles' castle. There was nothing but worn dirt, grass, and trees. No sign of civilization. The dark and the twinkle of the stars began to lull him into a stupor, making his steps falter.

_No, I can't stop… must… keep… going…_ Timothy urged himself on, but his entire body screamed for rest. He stumbled to his knees, catching himself with his hands and cutting his palms on the sharp rocks that littered the ground. The pain seemed far away… further as his eyelids began to droop.

"Can't stop here, son, you can't." Said a voice above him that he didn't recognize.

"Sleepy…" Timothy muttered, feeling strong hands pulling up on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, youngling… but you have a lot to do and no time." The voice urged.

"Time…" Timothy whispered, his eyes refusing to stay open. "I'm lost… lost in time."

"You aren't lost," the voice said gently into his ear. "I'll carry you there, but you must learn on the way."

Timothy felt himself being lifted, and strong arms held him as he rested in the grip. He let his eyes close, finally, but he listened to that voice. It told him things… things that only his subconscious would remember…

The sun rose upon a vast hill that could have been a mountain. Huge, towering trees from the forest surrounded it, closing it in on all sides. At the center of the huge hill was a castle that competed with its base's size. It certainly made Hogwarts look like a day-care center. Timothy looked at it all in awe, before drawing out his wand and charging the gate.

He would never remember how he got there, only that he had opened his eyes and found himself standing before this awesome spectacle. Certainly he was still afraid stiff inside, but there was also a sense of confidence and knowing that made him straighten out his robes and walk right up to the front gate. Apparently, the front gate was only the first of several gates, leading up to the main gate that led into the castle itself. Most assuredly there would be guards waiting for him, just as magical as the ones that he had fought off in the forest before Luna was taken away and the ones that took Patrick as well. Yet, inside the castle itself was Lord Welles, and no doubt the very witch that had banished Timothy and Luna back in time. Whatever he was about to face was nothing to what he was getting himself into once inside the castle.

With the golden ax tucked within his robes and his wand in his hand, Timothy pushed open the first gate. Nothing happened. He let out the breath that he had been holding in slight relief. The land beyond the gate was barren, just a field, leading up to the second gate. There seemed to be no danger, and yet with magic, nothing is ever as it seems. Tensing up, Timothy began to make his way toward the second gate. He was about half way there when, suddenly, the ground split open. A huge monolith shot out of the ground.

"GO BACK!" It shouted.

Another monolith exploded next to it as Timothy began to flee.

"DANGER!"

Scared silly, Timothy ran at break-neck speed, but more monoliths leapt into his path, screaming at him.

"DISTRUCTION AHEAD!"

"YOU GO, YOU STUPID!"

"SOON IT WILL BE TOO LATE!"

Timothy's head began to pound with the monoliths' booming voices, and just as another one jumped across his path, he had just about had enough.

"DEATH WILL-"

"Will you _SHUT UP_?!" Timothy roared.

Instantly the monoliths fell silent. Timothy leered at them all, and continued calmly to the second gate, but not before he could hear the disgruntled whispers from the large stones behind him:

"Well, I never…"

"How rude!"

"Just doing our job, I mean, come on!"

"Not like we do it that often, either." 

As he came upon the second gate, Timothy blinked as he realized just what had happened and how at first it didn't seem all that weird. But now, looking back, Timothy shivered at the memory and quickly pushed the second gate open.

Timothy was ready for anything, expecting a monolith to again jump out of the ground like before, but he never expected what he saw…

Jefforagons. _Hundreds_ of them. There were all kinds of colors, surprising Timothy that they weren't strictly yellow like Jeff. Each one was chatting away as if it were some big family reunion. There were females, Timothy realized, and they didn't look all together that different from males. Even small hatchlings no bigger than Timothy's palm scampered around the field. It was so amazing to him that he simply walked out among them… but that proved to be a _huge_ mistake.

"Intruder!" One Jefforagon yelled.

"Oh, gosh! What do we do now?" A female voice quailed.

"Eat him! That's what we do to intruders, right?" Another asked.

"Ergh, do you know how much _fat_ are on humans? Leave them for the big blokes… this scrawny thing isn't worth biting."

"Well, what else do you propose?" Shouted a large red one.

Each Jefforagon stared at each other in turn, while Timothy nervously swallowed as he stood among them.

"Er…" he muttered uncertainly. "You _can_ let me go."

Silence, then sudden laughter.

"Yeah, _right_… and loose our jobs?"

"I say we push him into the Hole." Shouted the red one.

"Yeah! The Hole! Push him into the Hole!" They all cried. Suddenly, Timothy felt sharp teeth snapping at his heels, forcing him into a corner. Frightened, Timothy held up his wand to say a spell to ward them off, but before he could blink he was suddenly pushed into a dark hole. The Jefforagons' laughter followed him down into the darkness, mocking him and making Timothy remind himself to tell Jeff how rude his ancestors were. At the same time he screamed his throat raw, tumbling and hitting the sides of the hole as he continued to plunge downward. Just when he thought he'd fall forever, he hit something hard and soft.

"ARGHHHHH!"

"AHHHHHHH!" Screamed whatever he had landed on. "GET OFF!"

Before Timothy could put forth effort to roll over, he was shoved roughly onto a damp and dirty stone floor. It was so dark that he couldn't make out who had done it, and he angrily lashed out no matter who it was.

"Don't PUSH ME!" He growled loudly.

"How _dare_ you!" Timothy felt a hand slap him clear across the face. The sound reverberated off the walls that surrounded him and through his ears; his cheek stung acutely.

"Now that was not…" he began to bellow, but then something large, black, and furry with teeth suddenly began to attack them.

"AHHHHH!!"

"AHHHHH!!"

Timothy jumped into the arms of the person who had slapped him and they held each other as the furry assailant flapped about them before disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

Silence. Then…

"AHHHHH!!"

"What is it _now_?" Timothy yelped, squeezing whomever it was that was holding him.

"Timothy! Oh, Timothy! You're here, you're really here!"

Timothy squinted in the darkness at the person who was holding him, and it finally clicked in his mind.

"LUNA! You're down here?" He cried incredulously, before her arms squeezed around him so hard that the breath was knocked out of him. "_Luna_…"

"Oh, Timothy… Timothy! Oh, thank God! Thank you! I've been down here for ages… ages and ages, oh thank you thank you thank you!" She rocked him back and forth, oblivious to his feeble struggles for air. "Thank you! You've come to rescue me! Oh…"

As if having found Luna and being strangled by her weren't enough, she threw herself on top of him and before he realized what was happening, she kissed him. It took him so by surprise that he simply lost all feeling in his body, forgot about breathing, and just stared fish-eyed up at Luna's grateful expression as she let him go.

"So, Timothy… how do we get out? You _do_ have a plan?" She cocked her head enthusiastically down at him.

"D'err…" he continued to gawk up at her. "You… er… you just…"

"Where is Patrick and Mr. Crouch? Are they with you?" Luna completely ignored Timothy's shock.

"You… Luna, you…" he slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position. 

"Well… what? I want to get out of here!" She put her hands on her hips impatiently.

Timothy shook his head in disbelief.

"You kissed me." He said bluntly.

Luna stared at him a moment before her complexion went a shade darker; she blushed in realization.

"So?" she asked, nonchalant and shrugged. 

Timothy looked at her accusingly, "You _kissed_ me."

"And that's… bad?" Luna said innocently.

His jaw opened and closed a moment.

"_You kissed me._"

"So sue me!" Luna cried impatiently, standing up and throwing her arms up in the air. "Is it such a crime? Tell me… am I diseased or something? Hexed? Cursed? Forgive me for being eternally grateful for your appearance and rescue!"

Before Timothy could say anything more, she grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. "Now, Timothy Potter, you get us out of here or I'll… I'll… kiss you again!"

That got his attention, and now their situation came to his senses fully. Timothy realized that they were in some sort of underground dungeon. It was completely dark, save for the trickle of light coming down from the Hole where he fell from.

"Where is the door?" he asked her stupidly. Luna's eyes narrowed into a scowl, making him shrink reflexively. 

"_Where is the door_? Where is the door! Do you think I'm stupid or something? If the door was open, I'd have left already and _you_'_d_ be stuck in here by yourself! Where is the door…"

Timothy gritted his teeth and turned away from her, feeling along the walls for the door.

_Being locked in the dark alone for so long can make a girl unbearably testy._ He thought to himself irritably. _And she _kissed_ me_!

"If you think a spell is going to open the door, you're even dumber than I thought." Luna crossed her arms, all gratitude gone.

"That's what they expect," Timothy said as he found the door and the handle. His father and mother had taught him at a young age how to feel for powerful spells and curses, and using that knowledge, Timothy sensed that there was in fact a particularly powerful spell on the door to keep it locked. "So we have to try something that they didn't expect."

"Like what?" Luna asked mildly.

"Like this…" Timothy pulled out a pin that was keeping a tear on his robes together and slipped it into the keyhole. After a few moments, the lock clicked open. He turned triumphantly to Luna, and for a moment's terror he thought she was about to leap on him again.

"How'd you do that? I knew you could do it! I knew you'd save me!" She squealed in delight, and to Timothy's relief, simply pushed past him in a blur and out of the dungeon.

"The day I like girls is the day I loose my mind." Timothy muttered to himself grudgingly as he ran to catch up with her. 

"So where are they?" Luna asked, already up a flight of stairs and completely oblivious to the fact that they just might be in danger.

"Who?" Timothy said distractedly.

Luna gave an exasperated snort. 

"Patrick and Mr. Crouch!"

"Patrick was kidnapped and most likely taken here, and Crouch went off to find you and Lord Welles… I dunno where he is." He answered pointedly.

Luna stopped in mid-step and Timothy ran into her back.

"Hey! Careful-" he started.

"So, you mean… you came all the way down here just for me?" She asked timidly. Timothy blinked and averted his eyes.

"Well… yeah, I guess."

Luna's eyes went wide and glossy, as if she were about to break down in tears, and before she could, Timothy pushed past her hastily and ran up the stairs further. "Let's keep moving."

"Oh, Timothy!" she squeaked, running after him. "You're so kind!"

Suddenly, Timothy heard something. He put his hand over Luna's mouth before she was about to make another outburst; her brows furrowed in annoyance. Ignoring Luna, Timothy strained his ears to hear.

"What is it?" Luna whispered, removing his hand from her mouth and pushing down her urge to reprimand him for doing so.

"I thought I heard something." He whispered back, not looking at her and still trying to listen.

"Like what?" There was a tinge of fear in her voice.

"Dunno," Timothy shook his head. "It sounded almost like, slithering, or something. I lost it, the sound's not there anymore."

Luna looked at him uncertainly. He swallowed hard and started back up the stairs again, Luna close behind him.

After several minutes and still no end to their ascent, Timothy began to pant.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered.

"I've had a bad feeling about this since that evil woman banished us back in time." Luna muttered back.

Timothy gave her a sidelong look.

"Yeah, but haven't you noticed that this is almost too easy? Haven't there been any guards around the dungeon you were in since you got there?"

Luna thought a moment, then looked up at him uncertainly.

"I never saw anyone. Three times a day there would be food by the door, but I never saw anyone put it there. I assumed they just conjured the food inside."

Timothy drew out his wand and, almost hesitantly, grabbed Luna's hand. He didn't look back at her in fear she would see him blush. Instead, he took a deep breath and put on a determined look.

"Keep your eyes and ears open." He told her. Her hand began to tremble slightly and he squeezed back in reassurance. He wasn't sure if he was more surprised by his behavior than she was. If so, both of them didn't say anything, but merely continued to climb the endless stairs.

No matter how tired they were, Timothy and Luna kept hold of each other, even when relief from the stairs came into view. Light filtered from above, and soon a doorway could be seen and the top of the stairs. Instead of relaxing, Timothy tensed up more than he thought possible. He stopped on the last step and forced himself to look through the doorway into the light.

It looked like a common room, where the guards of all the dungeons would sit and get away from duties. A large fireplace held a quickly dying fire, with pots scattered across the hearth. Old wooden tables and chairs littered the large stone area, but there wasn't a single person there. Timothy tentatively stepped in further, pulling Luna behind him.

"Timothy…" she hissed in a frightened whisper.

"There isn't anyone here." He carefully said aloud. 

"That doesn't mean there could be soldiers or something hidden in here, just waiting for us to let our guard down." She said slowly, looking around nervously.

"That's why we aren't going to let our guard down." Timothy held her hand firmly, making note of her point. He flushed slightly at not thinking of that fact on his own.

Pausing only to make sure the room was clear, Timothy found another door leading upwards yet again and they went through. This time, the stairs weren't nearly as long and they reached another doorway at the top. The light coming through this doorway was natural sunlight, and Timothy couldn't help but feel a flutter of hope at getting out of the dungeons without any problems whatsoever. 

More cautious than ever, Timothy poked his head through the doorway. Sure enough, the inside courtyard of the castle itself was just past the door. It looked long devoid of anyone, but an ominous feeling in the air was so strong that the faint ray of hope quickly vanished.

"Stay close." He told Luna, stepping out into the sunlight. She nodded, her grip on his hand so tight that he wouldn't be able to let go of her if he tried. They slowly walked out into the courtyard, completely at attention for the slightest sound or movement. When nothing happened by the time they reached the middle of the courtyard, Timothy's nerves gave way to fear. Why was this so easy? Where were all of Welles' magical soldiers? Where was Welles himself? Where was Patrick? So many questions, so many it made him feel dizzy.

"Timothy… Timothy, are you alright?" Luna whispered to him with genuine concern.

Sweat broke out on his forehead and he swallowed loudly, but Timothy just nodded and forced his voice to be calm and cool.

"Just trying to figure out where to go… to go find Patrick and get us out of here."

Luna didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway. However, when they started moving again, the sunlight reflected off of the golden ax slung on Timothy's belt and she let out a gasp.

"What is that? Where'd you get that?"

Timothy started and immediately shushed her; he shook his head at her perturbed expression.

"I'll explain later. Now shut up and follow me."

They followed the parameter of the courtyard silently and alert. Luna was so close to Timothy that he could feel her breath on his neck. He felt his ears go hot as his whole face flushed, but he was too intent on his surroundings to say anything. When he saw a doorway up ahead leading to a tower, he headed straight for it.

The door had no keyhole, but Timothy felt no magic keeping it closed, so he pushed it open. Suddenly, Luna gasped and pushed him inside, stumbling after him and quickly shutting the door. Timothy turned on her angrily.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I heard someone behind us… I think." Luna recoiled from his livid gaze.

"Who knows who could have been in this room!" Timothy gestured his hand to the empty foyer before them. "We could have been dead by now!"

"Well we aren't!" Luna shouted back, getting over her fright. "Look!" She jumped out to the middle of the foyer. "There's no one hereeeeeee!"

Suddenly, a gust of wind just manifested itself on the spot where Luna was standing, and it sucked her right up through the ceiling.

"Luna!" Timothy shouted, jumping to the spot where she had been standing, but he found himself, too, caught up in the great vacuum and was swept up right after her.

"AHHHHHH!"

"AHHHHHH!"

It was as if Timothy were caught on a runaway broom that could only go straight up at top speed. He seemed to be going upwards forever until he suddenly collided with a ceiling and dropped like a rock back down until he hit something solid. The wind was knocked right out of him and he turned over on his back, gagging for air. He could see Luna, with a large gash on her forehead bleeding freely down her face, hovering above him with frightened eyes.

"Timothy! Breathe! You're turning blue!" She screamed in his face, but the air wouldn't come to him. His lungs screamed and the light in his eyes began to dim, Luna becoming out of focus.

"You have to give him air, quickly!" Shouted a voice, somewhat familiar.

Things began to get darker and darker, and Timothy couldn't hear anything anymore. He could only feel, and after what seemed like forever, he could feel the life-giving air returning to his lungs and he gasped.

"It worked!" Luna shouted nearly in his ear. "Oh, Timothy! Are you alright?"

All at once all his senses slammed back into place, and he looked up to see Luna leaning over him. Her eyes were wet, but she was smiling with relief as she helped him sit up.

"What happened?" He asked her, groggily. Each breath he took was sweet to his air-deprived lungs, and he tried his best to revel in each one.

"You were knocked down bad when you hit the top of the cage and landed on the bottom." She explained, and that's when Timothy's surroundings came into focus. They were in fact in a cage, hanging from a dark ceiling and a dark room. He peered into the darkness, but couldn't make out anything.

"I'm over here, if you're looking for me, young'n."

The voice that he had recognized spoke from behind him, and through his cage he saw another. In it, he could just make out a figure not unlike that of his father. Timothy's heart leapt. 

"Patrick!"

"The same." His voice was strained, immediately making Timothy wince.

"Are you alright? I've come to get you out of here!" Timothy gripped the cage bars.

He could hear Patrick chuckle slightly.

"Oh, Timothy, our family becomes quite popular over the centuries, does it? I'm grateful that you've come for me, only, you're not in a position good for rescuing, now, are you?"

Timothy blanched and his hands fell from the bars.

"I… er… I'll think of something." He muttered uncertainly.

"That should be something to see, no doubt." Said a large and pompous voice, almost menacing. "Only, I think the only way to get out of that cage is to watch your ancestor die and see your very existence disappear."

Timothy slowly turned around, and there he saw a stout, yet muscular man with red hair wearing a most elegant uniform standing seemingly in midair next to the cage. Luna let out a petrified squeak, and instinctively Timothy backed away until he found the end of the cage. Luna cowered next to him, almost burying her head into his shoulder.

"Good job, m'lady." Said the man to someone. Only, there was no one else in the room. A large black snake rose from his shoulders, and with a pop, in its place there she was. Veronica Murtov, with her malicious smile, stood next to him.

"Oh, no, my lord. It was all you." She kept her eyes on Timothy, and he felt his blood boil. That's when Timothy realized whom the man was. What he meant by killing Patrick and himself disappearing as result. This was Lord Welles, the evil wizard that Murtov wanted to rule the world.

"The fate of the world is decided here."

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A/N: Been a while since I've given you a nice, healthy cliffhanger, eh? It gives you something to chew between now and the fateful day chapter 13 arrives. When will that be? Not sure, but here's what you can do- my website updates frequently, that's one way of knowing. I now have my own private mailing list that will give you a heads up on new chapters/stories/announcements, Email me to join ^_^ [OrcaMorph@aol.com][1]

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Orca On the Web: Like I said before, it's updated so frequently it's sad. There are new novels on the recommendation page- prepare yourself for school reading! The **contest** due date is _September 15th_, so get your subs in before then! For more info on that, go to the website! ::grins again:: Lots of stuff to do and see there, so check it out and bookmark it- [http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com][2]

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"Paths go nowhere, People do"~Cat (_The Wild Hunt_) by Jane Yolen

~OrcaPotter

[OrcaMorph@aol.com][1]

   [1]: mailto:OrcaMorph@aol.com
   [2]: http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com/



	13. Out of Time

A/N: I'm real sorry about this story… I did with it what I vowed I would never do, and that was to put it aside and start something else ****

A/N: I'm real sorry about this story… I did with it what I vowed I would never do, and that was to put it aside and start something else. Going back to it after BtEG was real hard, and I had to _force_ myself to sit down in front of it and write… and that's a bad sign :-/ This last chapter is pathetic, but I needed this to end before the whole novel got ruined. Now with my new novel, _Message In the Ashes_, history would repeat itself. Trust me, the new novel is a hundred times more nicely written than this. I implore you to check it out. Anyway, this is short… the action was rushed and sketchy… what follows is not what I envisioned _at all_… and the ending is also a pathetic excuse for my impatience to get done. If I never do a remake of this chapter, I encourage you to seek me out and slap me. But for now, IT'S DONE! Timothy is going to take a nice long holiday. Novel 3 is gonna wait a while… but for now, read the ending to novel 2 à 

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Chapter Thirteen: Out of Time

Timothy stared at the medieval wizard. He didn't look as frightening as Malfoy, but just the knowledge that Welles held his life in his hands… as well as the lives of everyone in his family made him tremble.

Welles walked over to Patrick and pulled the cage closer to him. Patrick recoiled and sneered at him, making movements with his hands, obviously trying to do magic. Welles only laughed, making Patrick even more angry.

"So much for the Potter family being so powerful! You are helpless against my magic warding curse. Do you realize how simple it is to just eliminate you, and that scrawny little runt over there will simply die out like a flame in the wind?" Welles opened up his hand palm forward at Patrick and he suddenly went rigid and began to scream in pain. Laughing even harder, Welles pushed his hand further into the cage, making Patrick's screams deafening.

Luna was crying profusely, clutching at Timothy's robes and cringing with every painful scream. Timothy couldn't bear to watch, holding his head down low, trying to think of anything he could do. There was a whisper near his ear, and it sent chills down his spine.

"How thrilled the dark lord will be to find your entire lineage erased from history and time. The family wiped out long ago like any other. With your ancestor here childless, the Potter name will die with him. You will be gone, you will never have existed…"

"SHUT UP!" Timothy shouted, lashing out with his hands. Veronica Murtov simply laughed and backed away, looking at him coolly.

"We're never going to get back, are we, Timothy?" Luna whimpered to him. "We're never going to be home again, ever."

She clutched at his arm, and something clicked in Timothy's brain. He couldn't explain it, but before he realized what he was doing, he took the Golden Ax from his belt and gripped it firmly in his hands. Luna looked up at what he was doing with a confused expression, hiccuping. No one else took notice; Welles and Murtov were now torturing Patrick relentlessly. His screams only angered Timothy more, raising the Ax above his head. Luna backed away, and he hit the cage bars with all his strength. Instantly, the Ax went right through the metal as if it weren't there, and it fell apart. Only then did Welles and Murtov notice, and the distraction made their torturing stop, Patrick's screams silencing down to painful whimpering.

"The Ax!" Murtov's eyes were wide with disbelief.

"I thought it was destroyed!" Welles barked, his face red.

Controlled by some unknown knowledge, Timothy jumped from his cage to the invisible platform that Welles and Murtov were standing on. His anger made him look wild, and to his captors, _powerful. _The Golden Ax seemed to glow from itself, buzzing with power in Timothy's hands.

"Let us go, and I'll let you live." Timothy hoped he would not have to do otherwise. His voice failed him, and it came out as squeak.

Welles was more surprised than anything else, but Murtov almost looked afraid. She stared at the Ax as if it were about to leap on her all on its own.

"You don't know how to use that," she told him sharply. "Your bark is worse than your bite."

Timothy wavered, knowing what she said was true. Only, that something that had clicked in his head knew what it was doing. He _knew_ how to use the Ax, and he _knew_ what it could do. So, he scrounged up what courage he had and forced the words from his mouth.

"If that is so, than why are you so afraid?"

Murtov's eyes narrowed to slits, and Timothy moved to a fighting position that he didn't know he could do. He had never done one before. Welles, the entire time, grew steadily more afraid.

"Kill the ancestor, you fool!" Murtov shouted to him.

"I am not a _fool_!" Welles countered her, looking abashed. It would appear that the medieval warlock was more concerned with his ego than world domination. Murtov gave him a slight look of exasperation, just enough distraction to let Timothy lunge with the Ax.

He swung with all his might, nearly catching her in the neck before she ducked away. Her face had turned completely white with surprise, and even fear. But she quickly gathered her composure, and was ready for his next blow.

Timothy wasn't entire aware of what he was doing. All he felt was the weight of the Golden Ax in his hands, the air swooshing by his face as he parried and countered Murtov's defense. Welles stood back, completely dumbstruck. However, his now apparent slow brain then realized that the entire situation would disappear as soon as he killed Patrick. With a sly, knowing grin on his face, he raised his arms and walked to Patrick's cage. Patrick climbed warily to his feet, tears prickling his eyes, but his expression calm and determined to face his fate. Welles laughed, raising his arms high above his head, ready to cast the murderous curse, before a scream stopped him.

It wasn't Timothy or Murtov, nor was it even Patrick, but suddenly, Luna leaped from the opened cage and on top of Welles… screaming shrilly with both fear and anger. It was so shocking, that Timothy and Murtov temporarily forgot that they were fighting and just stood in awe as Luna beat at Welles' head. He screamed in surprise and rage, clawing at the small brunette. However, because of his elaborate medieval clothing, he couldn't get his arms to reach over enough to grab her.

The distraction didn't last long for Murtov, and Timothy was still staring when she pulled out her wand and cast a curse. It hit him square in the chest, knocking him off his feet and flinging him backward to the ground. Not for the first time that day, the wind was knocked out of him again. When he tried to push himself up, he found he couldn't move. Murtov had paralyzed him.

"The Ax is not so useful when you can't use your hands and arms, eh?" Murtov cackled, coming closer to him. He could feel the power flowing from her, malicious and evil. Cringing as best he could with his paralyzed body, Timothy closed his eyes, ready for death to come to him…

… but it never came. There was a sudden POP! And when Timothy finally opened his eyes, there was a very large black snake with very large surprised serpentine eyes staring back at him.

"Ha ha!" Cried Patrick triumphantly. He had somehow escaped from his cage and was standing on top of Lord Welles. Luna was still locked onto his head, beating him senselessly. Timothy blinked, too surprised to react.

"So _you're_ the snake that's been following me and terrorizing Jeff!" He finally said. Patrick flicked his wrist once and instantly Timothy felt his body come to life again.

"This so-called 'Lord Welles' isn't so tough after all, eh?" Patrick practically spat on top of the grandiose wizard fraud. Timothy almost wanted to laugh, but as he began to get up, Murtov the snake got desperate.

Springing like a cord, the huge black reptile leaped on top of Timothy and began to constrict around his neck.

"AHHHH!" Timothy yelped, and in his shock he dropped the Golden Ax. It clanked to the ground, and that's when Welles made his move.

The large wizard leapt upon the vulnerable Ax, wrapping his strong and dangerous hands around the handle. Patrick was stunned into an unmoving stare, watching, while Murtov continued to strangle Timothy's neck. Luna had been thrown upon the floor and was now gasping for air. If Welles used that Ax, who knew what would happen.

Timothy used every last ounce of strength he had to finally pull Murtov off of him, and, using her like a lasso, whipped her out toward Welles in the blink of an eye. Instantly, the Ax was thrown from Welles' hands and Welles himself got a mighty smack in the face by Murtov's snake body.

"Let's get out of here!" Cried Timothy, grabbing the Ax and running over to help Luna get to her feet. Patrick in turn grabbed Timothy, and out of nowhere a doorway appeared. However, when they went through, Patrick ran smack into someone.

"Potter?" It was William Crouch. He looked at all three of them in disbelief.

"M'lord!" Patrick cried. "Quick, we must get out!"

Crouch moved to the side, and without any further explanation, he pushed them presumably toward the exit.

"Get going!" He shouted at them, and only Timothy looked back to see the aging wizard run into where they had been, to face Murtov and Welles.

They had reached the courtyard when an explosion suddenly rocked the foundation.

"What was _that_?!" Luna shrieked, clutching Timothy's arm.

Patrick's flushed face went instantly white.

"Come on! We don't have much time!"

Together as one, they raced through the barriers of the innermost part of the castle. With Murtov and Welles distracted, the defenses did little to inhibit them. By the time they had reached the last ring, where Timothy had encountered the monoliths that spoke, the castle behind them began to crumble.

"Hurry!" Patrick urged, dragging Timothy behind him. They raced across the ground, everything behind them tumbling to a heap like a giant domino effect. Luna was whimpering, not daring to look back, but Timothy couldn't help but remember that Crouch was still back there. He tried to slow them down, pulling on Patrick's arm, but he wouldn't stop.

"What about Crouch, Patrick! He's still back there! Patrick!"

"He's gone, Timothy…" Patrick gasped, not looking back… his voice husky and raw. 

Stunned into silence, all Timothy could do was to run behind him, towing Luna. An enormous wave of dust and debris hit them, and they all began to cough as the dirtied air clogged their lungs and blinded them. Suddenly, they heard a voice shouting from in front of them.

"Patrick! Patrick Potter! Are you there?"

It was Ocarina. She suddenly loomed into view, and Patrick immediately embraced her.

"We have to get away!" He gasped, now tugging Ocarina back to where she had came from. Timothy got a firmer grip around Luna's hand and they ran behind them.

By the time the air cleared and they could breathe easier, they had reached the top of a hill… where Witch Winter was waiting. She looked perturbed, as if they were all late for an appointment and had kept her waiting. When all of them had caught their breaths, they looked back at the ruin that was the castle.

"I never expected that he would ever…" Patrick trailed off, covering his face with his hands. Ocarina hugged him in comfort, and Timothy frowned as he stared at the smoldering rubble.

"It looks like we won't be able to go home, with Murtov finally gone." He said more to himself, but everyone heard him. Luna let out a single sob, and she buried her face into Timothy's shoulder. He didn't shrug her off, for once.

"Of course you're going home," Witch Winter suddenly grumbled. "I can still do magic, you know."

All of them turned to the old witch at once with blank faces. However, Luna immediately became hopeful.

"Can you send us home?" She asked eagerly.

"Of course." The witch shrugged nonchalantly.

Timothy, however, suddenly became angry.

"You mean all this time we've been here and you could've sent us home _before_? Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Because then you would never have found that ax," She pointed to the Golden Ax Timothy held. "Because that's the next step in your quest. The last one is in your own time."

Timothy stared at the Ax, then looked at Luna.

"Then how do we get home?" He asked Witch Winter.

She pulled out, to Timothy's shock, an old looking Time Turner. Slipping it carefully over both his head and Luna, Witch Winter began to turn it over many times.

"Timothy…" Patrick looked at him solemnly. "Good luck."

"Good bye, Patrick." Timothy replied, before suddenly Witch Winter let the Time Turner go, and the world around him began to swirl violently. He felt Luna grab his arm so hard he thought she would sever it, until after what seemed like forever, she let go and the spinning abruptly stopped.

"There they are!"

Timothy was so dizzy from the jump in time that he couldn't make out where they were. Voices started shouting everywhere, and someone else grabbed him tightly. This cleared his vision, and the image of his father's face swam into view.

"Dad?" He squinted hard.

"Timothy! My God! Where have you been? Oh, thank God you're alright!" His father had picked him up and was rocking him back and forth as if he were five years old again.

The full force of the knowledge that he was back home startled Timothy into tears. He let go of the Golden Ax that he had slipped under his belt and hugged his father back. Another voice and another pair of arms took him from his father, and his mother was now bawling over him.

"Oh, my poor little boy!" She cried, kissing him, smoothing out his hair, and kissing him again. "You're home, you're home, you're home…"

Timothy merely buried his face into his mother's neck and let her fuss over him. The relief was overpowering, and for the first time in a while he wanted nothing more than his parents to hold him.

Where Luna was, he wasn't sure. He only got a glimpse that he was back in the library, where nearly half of the Hogwarts staff was buzzing about. A group of Ministry officials were there as well. His great-uncle, Sirius Black, was also there. He was now comforting his father, as they stood over him and his mother.

Timothy's mother pulled him away for a moment to look over him more carefully; she nearly burst out into tears again at his healing cuts and bruises.

"Oh, my poor baby, look at you! How… what… do you feel alright? Oh, tell me what happened! You don't have to worry, mommy and daddy are here."

Normally Timothy would blush and get angry for his mother making such a scene, acting as if he were an infant. Yet, he was just so relieved, that he simply nodded and sniffed back his loose tears.

Headmaster Eian Dumbledore had suddenly appeared, and was now politely helping his mother to her feet. Timothy's father then took a hold of him again, and his great-uncle took the opportunity to embrace him.

"I'm so glad you're OK, Timothy. We were all so worried… we had no idea what happened… where you were…"

"If you don't mind me intruding, I believe young Timothy should have Mrs. Hall have a look at him, then later we can look for answers."

Immediate responses of agreement rang out, and his father's firm and reassuring hand guided Timothy out of the library and to the hospital wing. His mother held his hand the entire time, even while Mrs. Hall gave him a thorough examination. He wasn't sure, but Timothy thought he heard Darian and John pleading to come and see him from Mrs. Hall's locked office.

"He's exhausted. Sleep is all he needs. Those wounds are healing nicely on their own. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's had them treated already." Mrs. Hall gave him a goblet of foul smelling potion.

"I'm alright, really… I feel fine." Timothy protested, making a face at the goblet.

"Drink it." His mother said firmly; Timothy knew the tone she used was not to be argued against.

"We won't leave you." His father assured him, nudging the goblet for him to drink.

He gave the room one last look before he drank, noting that Professor Peacecraft was smiling at him kindly, while Professor Dumbledore was speaking to her quietly while she nodded her response. Timothy swallowed the entire goblet, much to his distaste, and immediately felt drowsy. His parents helped him settle in bed, and he closed his eyes as not only his mother sat next to him… but Professor Peacecraft as well. Then everything went black. 

It turned out that Timothy did not have to explain himself when he woke up. Nearly a day later, he awoke to find his mother stroking his hair tenderly and his father holding his sister, Kalina, on his lap as they looked out the hospital wing window. Everyone else was gone.

"Shh…" his mother cooed when he tried to explain what happened. "We know what happened."

"How?" Timothy asked.

"While you were asleep, Professor Peacecraft was able to see your memories." When Timothy looked alarmed, she laughed. "Only the recent events, honey, don't worry. She didn't see anything personal."

But he was still worried. If Professor Peacecraft knew about the Golden Ax, then surely she would have told his parents.

"Where are my clothes?" He asked, realizing that the Ax had been under his belt.

"They're in your dorm. I had your father bring down some of your pajamas. Why?" She frowned at his worried expression.

"There was something… I'm afraid I'll loose it."

His mother studied him a moment, before realization suddenly crossed her face. "Oh, you mean that ax."

Timothy froze. 

"Yes. Where is it?"

"Professor Peacecraft said she would keep it for you, because it was something your ancestor gave you?" She explained, obviously she wasn't aware of the ax's significance. Timothy relaxed. "You just rest now. Your father and I have decided to let you finish the year, so you can go back to classes in a few days."

Relieved, Timothy allowed himself to fall back asleep.

Darian and John were especially keen to know every last detail. Luna, who had recuperated in the hospital wing along with Timothy, was also drilled for every last detail. After all that had happened, Timothy wasn't as vain toward her as before, and didn't mind her around as much.

The year finished without further interruption. Timothy's parents were constantly visiting, however, to make sure things were alright. He was surprised they were letting him go home on the Hogwarts Express when the term ended.

"This year sure went by fast." Darian sighed, sitting down in their compartment on the train.

"Yeah, time flies when you travel through it." Timothy muttered, placing his trunk in storage and sat down next to him.

John was his normal, quiet self, watching the people get on the train with a wistful expression. There was a quiet knock on the compartment door, and they looked up to see Luna in the doorway.

"Ehem… er… do you think I could share the compartment with you guys?" She asked timidly.

Darian looked about ready to come back with a sharp remark, before Timothy spoke before him.

"I guess so, sure."

Both Darian and John looked at him in shock as Luna pulled her trunk in and sat down across from them. There was a few minutes awkward silence, before John broke it uncertainly.

"So, er… where's the Golden Ax?"

"In my trunk." Timothy said with an obvious tone.

"No, John, he ate it." Darian rolled his eyes.

"You can't swallow an ax." Luna looked at him blatantly.

He stared at her a moment, his brows furrowed sarcastically.

"No, really. Please."

"Alright, alright already! Settle down, Darian, before you hurt yourself." Timothy shoved him playfully.

John let out a snort and Luna snickered, while Darian glared at Timothy.

"Fine then, all-mighty Ax Man!"

He leapt at him, but only found himself on the floor of the compartment as the train lurched as it began to move. Everyone flat out laughed that time, and, completely red with embarrassment, Darian calmed down. 

"So, what can we expect next year?" John asked, toward the end of the trip.

"Who knows." Timothy shrugged.

"Lumberjack classes?" Darian grinned.

"You wish." Luna remarked at him.

"Watch it, Thumblelina." He growled.

"Children…" John warned.

"All I can say is that I haven't seen the worst of it yet. Next year is gonna be tough." Timothy sighed.

"You won't go through it alone." John smiled.

"Yeah, I wanna go through time too!" Darian bounced up and down.

"You can count me in." Luna grinned sheepishly.

Timothy regarded her a moment, before smiling at his friends as they looked at him for his response.

"As long as you don't kiss me."

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The last step has yet to be reached…

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A/N: Oh, Lord! I'm so, _so_, sorry… I'm most likely more disappointed than you are… but man! I am sooo going to slap whoever came up with the idea of college- for that's a factor. Not like the terrorism helped either. Well, I won't blame you for wanting to kill me… but until you decide which method to use for my demise, I ask that you click over to _Message In the Ashes_ and see the other cause of why this chapter reeks. Even if you don't like the story, it's better written! ::makes puppy eyes:: Novel 3 won't be out for a long time… but, I suspect that it will definitely be written.

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Visit Orca on the Web: [http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com][1] and coming soon, _Lumos_, my official archive!

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"… the lobster was unavailable for comment..." ~Me

~OrcaPotter

[OrcaMorph@aol.com][2]

   [1]: http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com/
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